


This is it.

by heenimlee



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Internalized Homophobia, Jaehyun being a dickhead, M/M, consider yourself warned lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8020711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heenimlee/pseuds/heenimlee
Summary: “I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.”― Pablo Neruda





	1. Chapter 1

Taeyong is fucking beautiful, Jaehyun thinks. In that reserved, old world way. The kind of beauty that makes you want to take him out to dinner and ask for his permission just to kiss the back of his hand. That makes you smile and do a double take when you see him passing by on the street. That almost hurts to look at. It’s charming, that kind of beauty. Jaehyun has always thought that.

So why is it, Jaehyun wonders, that he feels this sick twist in his gut these days, looking at Taeyong?  Why does his blood feel thick, heavy, _oily_ in his veins? What the fuck is this knot in his stomach, the tightening of his throat, heart hammering in his chest?

And how is it that this quiet, socially awkward, tactless man, his Taeyong hyung, looks like pure sex right now? Because there he is, dressed all in black, leaning against a white wall, arms raised and resting against the wall like someone has him pinned there, and his lips are parted, and his eyes are half lidded, and everything about him is screaming _don’t you want to fuck me?_

Where the fuck is that reserved, old world beauty now, he thinks. It’s the same face, but there’s none of that innocence left. This feels dirty, tainted, like the twist in Jaehyun’s gut, like the thick, oily blood in his veins, like the knot in his stomach.

Jaehyun stands there, unable to tear his eyes away from Taeyong. The lights are bright, hot, the camera clicks incessantly, and the whole studio is filled with bustling staff and crew members and equipment. But to Jaehyun, it’s like Taeyong is really the only one there, and he just can’t stop staring.

They’ve finished the group photoshoot, and Jaehyun has finished his individual shoot, and he should really be resting in the dressing room with the rest of the members, but he stands there, rooted to the spot. Under the guise of companionship and moral support for Taeyong, he stands there and watches the older man, the way his head tilts back, the way the hem of his t shirt lifts and a sliver of his tight, muscled abdomen comes into view. Jaehyun’s breath hitches, and he can’t stop himself from completing the picture. His own hands gripping Taeyong’s wrists, pinning him to that wall, bodies pressed together, that half lidded gaze directed at him, screaming, _Jaehyunnie, don’t you want to fuck me?_

What a perfect picture, he thinks. What a perfect fucking picture.

Taeyong’s eyes shift, just for a second, from the camera to Jaehyun’s face. Just for a second, they share a look and Taeyong falters. Jaehyun is ripped out of his fantasy, and he struggles to erase the image from his mind, like he’s afraid Taeyong would see it. He drops his gaze to his feet, excuses himself, guilt weighing heavy in the pit of his stomach. It feels sick, like an ugly distortion of their friendship, allowing himself to think of Taeyong in that way.

He’s a friend, he thinks. He’s gorgeous, but he’s just a friend.

He steps away from the crowd, needing to breathe, to clear his mind. He opens the first door he finds, steps through, finds himself in a stairwell. It’s dimly lit, the only light filtering down from the floor above. He leans against the wall and he takes a deep breath, then another, and another.

This needs to stop, he thinks.  And it’s not for the first time. So many nights in the shower, or locked in his room with the lights off, when he needs a little more than just his own hands to push him over the edge, he knows he thinks of Taeyong’s mouth, of his tongue, of the warmth between his legs. Always in the moments before coming, and his release always comes with a violence, wrapped tight in guilt, gasping and shuddering. And then his mind clears, and he swears to himself, never again.

This shit needs to stop before he fucks up a good friendship.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there when the door opens and Taeyong steps through. He closes the door quietly behind him and leans against it. Jaehyun just looks at him, adjusts his expression, scrambles to get his thoughts in order. He’s glad it’s kind of dark in there because at least now he doesn’t have to see every maddening detail of his face.

 “Are you okay?” Taeyong says, concerned.

Jaehyun nods.

“You’ve been here for a while.”

“It was too crowded in there,” Jaehyun replies. “Too bright, too hot.”

Jaehyun tenses when Taeyong moves forward, steps closer, steps into his space. He lifts a hand to Jaehyun’s forehead, and Jaehyun swears the touch burns.

“You don’t have a temperature or anything. Do you feel sick?” he says.

“No, I’m fine.”

Taeyong’s hand slides down to cup his cheek.

“You look like shit, though,” he says quietly. He moves closer, and his face is just too close. Jaehyun holds his breath. He feels lips press against his cheek.

Jaehyun knows it means nothing, it’s just something Taeyong does, completely innocent, like his aegyo, all pouty lips and big eyes. But in that dark, confined space, Jaehyun can’t help but taint it, color it the way he wants, twist it to mean something else. And he knows Taeyong senses that something is different this time.

He’s being glaringly obvious today, he knows. It’s in the way his body tenses under Taeyong’s fingertips, the way he’s left breathless when those lips leave his cheek, the way his hand comes up hesitantly to rest on Taeyong’s hip. If it were anyone else, he could have hidden it better. But it’s Taeyong, and Taeyong knows him, knows everything about him. He can’t hide a damned thing.

So when Taeyong pulls away, but doesn’t step away from him, he really isn’t surprised.

He just screws his eyes shut and waits for Taeyong to figure it out.

“You’re all flushed,” he says. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Jaehyun nods shakily, eyes still closed. “I’m fine.”

Taeyong frowns. “You’re hiding something from me,” he says, cupping Jaehyun’s face with both hands.

“Hyung, please,” Jaehyun says, opening his eyes, his grip tightening on Taeyong’s hip. He doesn’t know if he’s pulling him closer or pushing him away. Too fucking obvious.

Taeyong doesn’t say anything, but his gaze flickers down to where Jaehyun’s hand is leaving bruises in his hip, and then it’s back on Jaehyun’s face. The younger can practically hear his mind ticking, brow furrowed, lips drawn into a hard line. There’s some sort of uncertainty in his eyes, something Jaehyun can’t really identify.

“Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong says softly, unsure. Jaehyun finds his resolve shaking. “No way.”

His index trails across Jaehyun’s lips, and Jaehyun sees the older man’s eyes following the path it traces. It’s the softest touch, and Jaehyun finds his lips parting slightly. Taeyong presses down a little on his lower lip, watches the way it presses against his teeth. Jaehyun is breathing hard, crumbling.

“No fucking way,” Taeyong says, amazed.

Jaehyun’s free hand reaches up, grips Taeyong’s wrist, wants to draw the hand away from his mouth before he crumbles completely, but Taeyong leans in and then it’s too late. He doesn’t know how, but their lips are pressed together with no finesse, no restraint.

Jaehyun registers shock. But then it’s Taeyong, _Taeyong_ whose lips are pressed against his right now, and Jaehyun’s body moves of its own accord. Like a practiced motion, he pulls him closer, by the hip, by the wrist and kisses him with a fevered heat.

Their lips part and their tongues meet and Taeyong hums, or moans, Jaehyun doesn’t know. All he knows is the heat of Taeyong’s mouth when he sucks on Jaehyun’s tongue. It’s maddening, he thinks he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but how does any of that shit matter when Taeyong’s tongue feels like silk and his mouth tastes like lust?

Jaehyun moans, low and shaky, into the kiss when he feels Taeyong’s hand wandering under his t shirt, skin on skin. His teeth sink into the older man’s lower lip, and he hears a drawn out moan forming low in Taeyong’s throat, and it sets his body on fire. He releases Taeyong’s wrist, his hand lifting to tangle in his hair. He grips hard, pulls, and Taeyong’s head tips back, the delicate curve of his pale throat stretches out before Jaehyun, begging for his lips. Taeyong gasps and the younger mouths at the skin, hot, wet, tongue lapping at the hollow of his throat.

Taeyong’s hands fall away from Jaehyun’s body, fisting loosely in his shirt sleeves.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Stop, Jaehyunnie.”

It takes a moment to register, but when it does, Jaehyun stops dead, releases his grip on Taeyong’s hair. The realization of what he’s gone and done to his beloved hyung, to their simple friendship hits him hard. He screws his eyes shut, rests his forehead against Taeyong’s. He’s breathing hard, trembling. There’s that sick, sick twist in his gut again. There’s that guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

Taeyong laughs, a quiet bubbling sound. “Yes, you did. You meant to. And so did I.”

Jaehyun can’t speak.

Taeyong presses a soft kiss to Jaehyun’s lips. “I want you,” he whispers. “I want everything. But not here. Take me home,” he says and kisses him again. “And give me everything.”

 

 

They’re lucky, because Donghyuk is busy with NCT Dream promotions, which leaves Taeyong’s room just for them. They lock the door, and Taeyong’s mouth is on Jaehyun’s, and Jaehyun is pushed up against the door, and he pulls Taeyong’s body closer with a consuming need. Taeyong breaks the kiss, something teasing in his eyes, and he drops to his knees, wetting his lips, reaching for Jaehyun’s belt buckle before Jaehyun has time to think. Their hands tremble with want, with nervousness, fumbling clumsily with the button and the zipper and fuck this is taking too long.

Taeyong takes him in his mouth without so much as a second thought. If Jaehyun thought Taeyong looked sexy up against the wall, he doesn’t know what to say or think when he looks down and sees those dark, beautiful eyes looking up at him while his wet, pink lips stretch and slide down his arousal. Tight, warm, so fucking slutty. His hands reach out, gentle when he brushes Taeyong’s hair out of his face, fisting loosely in his hair.

Jaehyun’s head falls back against the door, simply because he can’t bear to look at Taeyong anymore, can’t take the pleasure, can’t stop himself from remembering that Taeyong is supposed to be his friend and colleague. He doesn’t want to think about that. For now, he just wants to focus on what it feels like to have a warm mouth to fuck, what it feels like to slide into that throat, to have that fluttering, humming tightness closing around his cock.

He moans, his head is spinning, release coiling tighter. And then the warmth is gone. He looks down and he gasps, because Taeyong is holding a finger to his lips, telling him not to make a sound, all the while stroking him with his other hand, and fucking hell, that’s so hot.

“Jaehyunnie,” he whispers. “Do you want to come like this or…”

What is he even asking?

Jaehyun flushes furiously when he realizes what Taeyong means. Do you want to come like this or do you want to fuck me? He can’t think, his knees feeling weak, his whole body too heavy. He finds himself shaking his head, pulling Taeyong to his feet, capturing his lips in a rough kiss, and Taeyong moans softly, his arms linking around Jaehyun’s neck. Jaehyun’s hands are quick to unbutton his jeans, to push in, hands flush against his ass, hot against his skin.

Taeyong pants into Jaehyun’s mouth when Jaehyun pulls him closer like that, has him grinding down on his thigh. One hand wanders, one finger presses against his entrance, circles around, has Taeyong gasping.

“How do you want to do this?” he whispers into Taeyong’s ear.

“Oh god, Jaehyunnie,” he breathes, tugging at Jaehyun’s t shirt, pulling him towards his bed. They undress hastily, clumsily on the way to the bed, fall in together, still kissing. Jaehyun’s hips roll against Taeyong’s, naked, heated, skin sliding on skin, arousals pressed together. Jaehyun’s soul has fucking left him. He doesn’t know what the hell is happening but Taeyong is naked and moaning into his mouth and his skin feels like sin and he decides he’ll think about this later. Right now he just wants to take, take, take, everything Taeyong can give.

Taeyong’s hand is on the back of Jaehyun’s neck, holding him close, clinging to him like that’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He wants more, wants it all, and he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“Jaehyun,” he moans quietly, pushes against his shoulder. Jaehyun pushes himself up to look at Taeyong. “There’s lube in that drawer,” he says, pointing to his nightstand, cheeks glowing warm with a pretty flush.

Jaehyun feels his throat drying up and he can’t get a single word out so he just nods dumbly. He doesn’t want to ask why Taeyong owns something like that, doesn’t want to think about that for now. He leans over, searches through the drawer and finds it all the way at the back.

Soon there’s one, two, three lubed fingers inside Taeyong, and the older is writhing, breathless, helplessly aroused. Jaehyun looks on in disbelief. No, disbelief doesn’t begin to describe what he’s feeling right now.

“Jaehyun.”

Pleading.

“I want you.”

Jaehyun almost sobs, presses his lips helplessly to Taeyong’s. His fingers slip out, and he lets Taeyong push him onto his back, lets him straddle his hips and he’s not brave enough to look down when Taeyong grips the base of his arousal and guides him into his body. He just closes his eyes and falls into Taeyong. It’s a struggle to fight back his release, threatening to come too soon, and it’s that much harder when Taeyong starts moving.

His body is trembling, and he feels tears gathering in his eyes because this feels so fucking right and that’s so fucking wrong. There’s that sick kind of pit in his stomach, being swept along in a whirlwind and he’s just lying there and letting things happen. Every moment that passes by destroys some constant, and everything he knows has changed, and the very ground he’s standing on has cracked under his feet and he’s just floating.

He can feel Taeyong’s weight lifting, falling back down, he can feel his hands on his chest, balancing his weight, and the pleasure is overwhelming. He wants to look at Taeyong, wants to reach out and touch him, but he can’t, he doesn’t think he can keep himself together.

Taeyong is leaning over him now, kissing him, whispering, whispering. “Jaehyunnie, baby, look at me, don’t be afraid.”

It takes a great summoning of strength for him to open his eyes, and a choked moan slips from his lips because Taeyong’s dark eyes are looking right at him and he looks so beautiful like this, temptation personified, and Jaehyun can’t resist him. His hands move towards his body and settle on his hips, guiding him over his arousal and his hips thrust up into him, seeking more of that mad pleasure. Taeyong gasps.

“Does that feel good?” Taeyong asks breathlessly, and Jaehyun swallows, nods, unable to find his voice.

“Did you fantasize about this?” he asks, hips rising, falling, rising, falling, and Jaehyun flushes to the tips of his ears. He nods shakily. “What do you want to do to me?” he says, catching his lips in a deep kiss.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun whispers hoarsely, and his darkest, most private fantasies rise to the surface and he feels so exposed, pushing them back violently.

“Tell me what you want,” Taeyong says. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Jaehyun groans. This is exactly how he pictured Taeyong, so eager, so submissive. His arms wrap around Taeyong’s torso, pulling him flush against his skin.

“I want to own you,” he says quietly, and Taeyong keens softly. It’s like a dam breaks, because Jaehyun wants more, wants Taeyong with a vehemence and he holds him tight and rolls them over so he has the older man under him. He grips his jaw, kisses him hard, and Taeyong moans, his hands gripping Jaehyun’s back desperately. Jaehyun thrusts into his body, feeling himself slipping, surrendering to Taeyong, to his denied desire, to his release, pressing closer and closer with every thrust.

He knows Taeyong is slipping too, his moans getting breathier and hotter and fragments of words fall incoherently from his lips. Jaehyun doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, but it feels like instinct and he must be doing something right because Taeyong is positively falling apart under him, tearing up, stroking himself hard.

Jaehyun can’t kiss him anymore because God, he needs to breathe, and his hands slips from Taeyong’s jaw and lies lamely against his throat. Jaehyun watches Taeyong’s eyes darken, and he almost chokes when Taeyong’s free hand comes down to rest on top of his, pressing down, telling him to… to what?

“Please, Jaehyunnie,” he breathes.

Jaehyun presses down, gentle, hesitant, shocked out of his mind.

“Do it, please.”

He tightens his grip, and Taeyong’s eyes flutter closed and he chokes out a moan, and the sight is so erotic and he feels so in control, and Taeyong is tightening around his cock and it’s too fucking much. He sobs, hips thrusting erratically, watching Taeyong’s beautiful face as he loses himself to bliss.

Taeyong comes first, spilling hotly into his hand, tightening violently around Jaehyun, back arching beautifully, clutching at the hand around his throat. Jaehyun releases him and he gasps, breathing in great gulps of air, just managing to say Jaehyun’s name. His voice is strained and he looks ruined, and Jaehyun knows it’s all his doing and he comes apart with a strangled moan, stars bursting behind his eyes. It’s paralyzing in its intensity, and he finds himself powerless against it. He thrusts languidly a few times, until Taeyong’s body has taken everything he has spilled, and then he collapses onto Taeyong, panting, moaning Taeyong’s name.

When the high passes, he finds himself wrapped tight in Taeyong’s arms, face buried in the crook of his neck. It’s a while before he’s strong enough to lift his weight off Taeyong, to pull out of his body, and he groans, the last vestiges of his release draining from his bones.

Looking down at Taeyong’s blissed out face, he feels the reality of what they did weighing down his body. Taeyong lifts a hand to trail his fingers softly over his cheek, and Jaehyun closes his eyes. He presses a trembling kiss to Taeyong’s forehead.

Jaehyun rolls onto his back, and Taeyong curls into his side, fluidly, naturally. Jaehyun pulls him even closer.

“What the fuck did we just do?” he says.

Taeyong kisses his chest. “Jaehyun,” he says gently. “I wanted you, and you wanted me. I asked you to fuck me, and you did.”

“We’re friends,” Jaehyun says, his voice small.

“That hasn’t changed,” Taeyong replies. “Nothing has changed.”

“Hyung,” Jaehyun whispers. “I feel like we did something bad.”

Taeyong chuckles. “Oh Jaehyunnie,” he says, lifting his head off Jaehyun’s chest to look at his face. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We didn’t do anything bad. It’s not wrong to want someone. Just… forget everything. Did it feel good?”

Jaehyun smiles. “Yes.”

It felt fucking incredible.

“Good. That’s all that matters,” he says, kissing him on the lips.

That’s all that matters, Jaehyun repeats to himself. This is what it feels like to want someone. This is what he wanted, and that’s okay.

This is it, he thinks, ignoring the tight bundle of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

This is it.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaehyun falls asleep in his own bed that night, sleeps fitfully. When he wakes up the next morning, he finds that he’s tired, and he knows he has dreamt all night, but he remembers nothing but a faint image of hazel eyes turning to look at him, framed by long, dark eyelashes. He pushes it back.

He can’t think about that now, because the smell of Taeyong’s skin and the taste of his mouth are burned into his memory despite the long, thorough shower he took the previous night, trying desperately to wash it all away.

It’s difficult to even get out of bed. He doesn’t want to see Taeyong and own up to what they did, but they have work, and he knows he has to face Taeyong sooner or later. He gets out of bed, brushes his teeth, cleans up, gets dressed, and he finds that his chest is too tight to breathe right, a small pit of uneasiness writhing in his abdomen.

He runs into Taeyong in the kitchen, and he almost physically recoils, but Taeyong just smiles brightly at him and begins an exasperated tirade about how nobody fucking wakes up on time in this damned house and shitty Yuta took so long in the shower, and oh, Jaehyunnie, I’m making some coffee, do you want some?

It’s so… normal. Like nothing has changed. He’s confused, but the tightness in his chest eases up a little, and he manages to smile back and slip back into his place by Taeyong’s side. He sits at the table, throwing furtive glances at his hyung, trying desperately to gauge something from his expression, but really, it’s like nothing has changed. He slips right back to his best friend.

Strange, he thinks. It’s too easy.

He thinks back, to when he met Taeyong for the very first time, the beginnings of their friendship. Taeyong seemed so detached, so aloof back then. He remembers his breath catching in his throat because God, Taeyong was so pretty. And when they practiced together, it was magic watching him dance, his movements precise, graceful, everyone agreed he’d debut first.  He remembers telling himself the hammering in his chest was just the fear of inadequacy. Just him comparing himself with this other trainee, this naturally beautiful boy with his sharp features and delicate mouth and tight body. Just checking out the competition and seeing how he fell short.

Their practice schedules coincided almost completely, and they were forced into each other's company, and that's when he really got to know him. He found himself unable to stay away from him, he remembers. Clumsy, shy, Lee Taeyong, nothing like the person Jaehyun thought he was. He would find himself looking forward to those brief interludes of Taeyong’s amicability, when he’d come out of his shell and laugh with all the other trainees and talk to Jaehyun, and act silly and childish and so fucking cute. Jaehyun saw how he cared for the younger trainees. He wasn’t aloof, just painfully shy.

Jaehyun became his friend. He still doesn’t know how, but he became one of the few people allowed close to Taeyong, and he was glad for it. He understood him, reached out to him, supported him through all his lowest moments and he was paid in kind. With beautiful, bright smiles and the sort of affection and understanding that comes with a deep, quiet sort of friendship.

Just friendship.

 

And here he is, hoping against hope that he hasn’t destroyed that.

 

It’s four whole days before Jaehyun relaxes completely around him. Four days of Taeyong acting completely normal, Jaehyun tensing up at their proximity every time Taeyong even sat next to him. He knows it isn’t going unnoticed. Taeyong knows him.

So on the fifth day, he corners Jaehyun in the kitchen, rests one soothing palm on his left cheek and says, “You’re okay, right?”

Jaehyun hopes they aren’t going to talk about what happened. This is working for him, pretending like nothing changed. He nods.

Taeyong leans up and presses a soft kiss to his right cheek. Jaehyun’s muscles are tight again, and an image of deep, hazel eyes flickers in his mind, but Taeyong lets his lips linger just long enough to let him push it back and relax again. And then he whispers, “We’re okay, right?”

Jaehyun nods shakily. Taeyong pulls away.

 He opens his eyes and he doesn’t know when he closed them, he pulls his arm back from around Taeyong’s waist, and he really doesn’t know when he held him in the first place.

He finds himself saying, “Hyung, you’re my closest friend, you know that?” and he doesn’t know why he says it. But Taeyong smiles happily at him and steps out of his embrace. Jaehyun smiles back, and then Taeyong is leaving.

Hyung, you’re my closest friend. My best friend. Just that, nothing more.

That’s the part that went unsaid.

Taeyong understood, Jaehyun knows he understood what he meant when he said that.

Because just before debut, something happened. Around the time they began to realize how impossibly close they’d become. When they all got sloshed one night, and Jaehyun and Taeyong collapsed into bed together, laughing about something he doesn’t remember. He does remember throwing an arm around Taeyong’s waist and pulling him close, lying face to face in the darkness. He remembers the softness of Taeyong’s expression, the drunken warmth in his cheeks, his soft fingertips on Jaehyun’s cheek, the hesitation before he leaned in and kissed Jaehyun gently. Jaehyun froze up for a moment, and he thinks he heard Taeyong whispering something, something that sounded like _I like you_. He doesn’t know for sure, but he knows he kissed him back that night.

He remembers waking up the next morning with his arms wrapped around Taeyong, the memory of their kiss fresh on his lips. He remembers guilt. He remembers thinking about his mother’s perfume. Later that day, when Taeyong asked him if he remembered anything from the night before, he shook his head without a second thought. Taeyong never brought it up again.

Taeyong knows him, but he doesn’t know that sometimes, very rarely, Jaehyun lies to him.

He knows every moment in Jaehyun’s life that means something to him, knows it like he was there when it happened. But he doesn’t know that there are some moments that Jaehyun keeps hidden. And Jaehyun thinks he’ll never share them with Taeyong.

Jaehyun was still a kid when it happened. About nine years old. They were still in the US.

His English was terrible, and he had to take extra classes with a couple of other foreign students four times a week, and he positively hated it. Until he met someone, a tall, dark haired German kid with beautiful hazel eyes. He was kind, and fun, and they hung out a couple of times after class. They communicated in broken English but they found that they could make each other laugh really hard, and as days and weeks and months passed by, they found that they made each other’s hearts beat just a little faster.

It was on a sunny, sunny afternoon when they first held hands, and Jaehyun’s face bloomed a deep shade of red, and the other smiled, shy and radiant. Weeks later, one evening, just before Jaehyun left for home, he felt his wrist being taken in a loose grip, and he felt lips press against his cheek. He remembers the lingering warmth on his skin. He remembers being happy.

It didn’t last long.

At home that night, he learnt what true fear meant.

His father, his gentle, kind father, stormed into his room, pulled him up out of bed, struck him across the face, once, twice. Jaehyun remembers shock. And he remembers the way warmth tingled across his skin for a second, the ringing in his ears, and then the pain. He didn’t understand, and he remembers calling out to his father, confused, terrified. He was just grabbed by the front of his t shirt and shaken hard, small, cowering in his father’s shadow. He was asked if that was how they had raised him.

Jaehyun remembers crying, tears hot against his stinging skin, and turning to his mother, standing quietly in the doorway, watching passively as her husband spat on her child. She did nothing.

His father calmed down eventually. He sat Jaehyun down at the kitchen table, told him how shameful, how absolutely disgusting these things are. That it’s all because of American culture that this was happening. That it’s okay, he’s a kid, that he made a mistake, and that’s okay. And then made him promise never to do that again.

Soon after that, they moved back to Seoul. 

Taeyong doesn't know.

 

A week passes before Jaehyun finds himself alone with Taeyong again.

They’re lying in bed watching a movie on Taeyong’s laptop, with Jisung sandwiched between them. They’re halfway through when Jisung begins dozing off. Jaehyun notices the way he struggles to keep his eyes open, a matter of pride in front of his hyungs, before he gives up and falls asleep on Jaehyun’s shoulder. It’s funny, and it’s adorable and Jaehyun looks over and catches Taeyong’s eye and they chuckle quietly.

“Jisung-ah?” Taeyong says softly. The kid startles awake and Jaehyun chuckles again.

“Why don’t you go to sleep?” Jaehyun says.

“I’m okay, hyung, I want to watch the movie,” he says groggily.

“I’ll watch the rest with you tomorrow, I promise, now go to bed,” Taeyong says gently, and the younger relents. He mumbles out a good night hyung, and gets out of bed, drags himself out of the room. Jaehyun recognizes fatigue written all over Jisung’s slender body.

“Poor kids. Must be so tired,” he muses.

Taeyong hums absent mindedly, checks the time on his phone. “Where the heck is Donghyuk?” he says, looking over at the empty bed on the far side of the room.

“He’s in my room, with Mark.”

“It’s late, shouldn’t he be sleeping?” Taeyong says.

“I’ll go. I’ll send him to bed,” Jaehyun replies, throwing the covers off and leaving Taeyong’s bed.

“Kay, good night Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong mumbles from behind him.

“Night hyung,” Jaehyun replies over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, Jaehyun finds one bundled up maknae in his bed and an apologetic post it note on the head board saying “Hyung, very sleepy, very sorry. Good night.”

Jaehyun wants to be annoyed but he can’t keep himself from laughing. Shitty Donghyuk. What the hell is he supposed to do now?

He changes into his nightclothes, returns to Taeyong’s room. He hesitates before knocking. Should he just sleep on the couch? But everything is normal. Taeyong is his friend. There’s no reason for him to be acting weird about this. He knocks quietly, and he hears Taeyong’s voice telling him to come in.

The room is already dark when he enters, except for the light from the laptop lying open on Taeyong’s bed. Taeyong has changed into shorts and a loose t shirt, and is climbing into bed when he looks up and sees a tall figure by the door where he expected Donghyuk’s lithe frame.

“Jaehyun?” he says, surprised.

“Donghyuk is sleeping in my bed,” Jaehyun says, walking over to Taeyong and showing him the post it. “Can I sleep here?”

Taeyong nods and takes the note from him, laughing out loud when he reads it. “That little shit maknae,” he says, and then he pauses. “Hey if you’re here, do you want to finish the movie?”

“What about Jisung?”

“I’ll watch again with him tomorrow.”

Jaehyun hesitates, and then he chides himself. Just watching a movie with his friend. He nods, and Taeyong scoots over and makes room for him, and Jaehyun climbs in.

The movie drags on, and Jaehyun finds himself uncomfortably aware of all things he did to Taeyong the last time they were alone in this bed. This is the ideal moment, he thinks. Everybody’s asleep, and we’re alone, and he’s just an arm’s reach away from me. He could ask, and Taeyong would give. He knows for a fact that Taeyong would give him anything. He swallows thickly, forces his mind to focus on that small screen.

It isn’t long before he’s distracted again

When Taeyong lifts a hand to brush something off his neck, Jaehyun finds his gaze following the path that slim, beautiful hand takes. Finds himself staring at the curve of Taeyong’s throat, deathly pale in the light coming from the screen, and an image flashes in his mind. _Do it, please._ The warmth of his skin under Jaehyun’s palm. He remembers feeling his Adam’s apple lift and fall when he swallowed, the rush of power he felt when he tightened his grip on that pretty throat. He feels warmth in his cheeks and he knows he’s getting hard and he hates himself for thinking like this.

Remember, Jaehyun, he thinks. Remember.

The terror he felt when his father hit him came back when he was fourteen, the first time he watched an adult video, and he felt nothing. Felt _nothing._

The guilt came later, several tries later, when he hesitantly watched a gay adult video for the first time, and he felt arousal, touched himself, and he came. That night he ate little, threw up everything he did eat. He didn’t sleep.

That week, he asked a girl out.

He reported it to his father timidly. Dad, look, I have a girlfriend.

His father was so proud.

He’s forcing himself to focus, to remember the fear, but he can’t. Not when Taeyong’s scent is so fucking enticing, and his skin looks so smooth. Jaehyun wants to touch it, to taste it on his tongue. Taeyong shifts, and his almost bare leg presses up against his, and Jaehyun exhales shakily, shifts so they aren’t touching anymore. Taeyong is too pretty to resist.

Taeyong’s eyes are on him now, Jaehyun can feel it, and he shifts his gaze from his throat to his face. His eyes are impossibly pretty, Jaehyun thinks. Impossibly dark. And he knows they can see through him, right through to every depraved thought crossing his mind right now. Somehow, he thinks Taeyong knows that Jaehyun is hard, insanely aroused.

“Jaehyun?” he says, and his voice is low, tempting. He moves closer. “Hyunnie?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. He doesn’t know why, or what he’s denying, but he thinks Taeyong’s voice is an invitation and he should decline.

Taeyong’s face is so close, too fucking close, and Jaehyun is closing his eyes. Taeyong stays where he is for a moment, and then he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Jaehyun closes his eyes tighter, but he doesn’t say anything. He hears the rustling of sheets, feels Taeyong’s breath on his lips, and then they’re sharing a soft kiss. Taeyong pulls away and Jaehyun exhales shakily.

“Look at me,” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun does as he’s told. “I’m still right here, and I’m still your friend, see?”

Jaehyun nods.

“Tell me the truth now, do you want to kiss me?”

_He forced you, didn’t he? Tell me, son, you didn’t want to, right? You wouldn’t do such a thing, you wouldn’t._

Jaehyun nods.

“Do it, then.”

Jaehyun leans in, presses his lips to Taeyong’s reverently, pulls him close, kisses and kisses him. He feels Taeyong’s hand on his chest, sliding down, slipping into his shorts.

“Let me,” Taeyong whispers, and Jaehyun doesn’t push him away. “Just look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on Taeyong’s beautiful face, inhaling sharply when he feels fingers curling around his length, caressing, stroking. Taeyong’s face is the only thing keeping him here, in this moment, letting himself enjoy a man’s touch, letting himself go. Taeyong’s pace is picking up, and Jaehyun gasps a little, and Taeyong catches his lips in a sloppy kiss.

_Remember, Jaehyun, he thinks. Remember the truth about that girlfriend. That you never touched her unless you had to._

That one day, he cornered one of the kids from his class, some guy that everyone whispered about, saying he liked boys. He remembers that kid’s face, wary, confused, and he remembers what it felt like when he pressed their lips together. He remembers the way the other’s body froze up, and then relaxed, and he remembers the panic he felt when he realized that kissing some boy he didn’t even know felt so much more right than kissing his own girlfriend.

He remembers the bone crushing guilt he felt, that he was enjoying himself. The shame. He remembers sobbing, begging the other boy not to tell anyone.

He can’t lie to himself. He fucking loves this. He loves Taeyong’s tongue in his mouth and his hand in his pants and everything Taeyong can give him feels like sin but God damn, it feels so fucking good, and he wants _everything_. There might be something terribly, terribly wrong with him, but right now he doesn’t care.

He pulls Taeyong flush against his body, and trails a hand over his cheek, letting a moan slip from his mouth when Taeyong’s lips part and his mouth takes two of Jaehyun’s fingers in. His hand is still fisting Jaehyun’s length, jerking him harshly, his mouth working wetly around his fingers and Jaehyun feels like he might collapse. When his fingers are released Taeyong leans right up into his space and whispers against his skin, “I want your fingers inside me, I want you, I _want_ you…”

Jaehyun groans and his hand pushes under Taeyong’s waistband, over his ass, and his spit-slick index pushes into Taeyong. It’s a snug, snug fit, and it has the older gasping and his hand stilling on Jaehyun’s length. He wants to push in another finger, but it’s too dry and Taeyong whimpers, releasing his cock and clutching at his shirt, hiding his face in the crook of Jaehyun’s neck. Jaehyun stops, slips his fingers out, and it’s like he’s on autopilot when he leans over and retrieves the lube.

He pushes Taeyong’s shorts halfway down his thighs, coats his fingers, pushing in one by one, stretching him like this is all normal for him, like he’s been doing this forever. He’s so surprised that his hands are steady, and he doesn’t fumble or hesitate. He just keeps his eyes on Taeyong’s pretty, pretty face and watches it twist in pleasure, feeling a sick sort of pride swelling in his chest when he realizes that he’s fingerfucking Taeyong senseless.

At some point Taeyong whispers _enough, just… just do it,_ and Jaehyun turns him over, pushes his legs apart and enters him, and Jaehyun reels from the pleasure. It’s even better than the last time, because now he knows what’s happening, feels more in control. Now he can take in the little details he missed last time, like just how pretty Taeyong’s ass is, all pale and smooth and tight, tight, so eager to take him. Like the way Taeyong trembles when Jaehyun surges into him, how his toes curl.

Jaehyun reaches out, runs his hands over the half naked body lying crumpled under him, runs his hands over Taeyong’s arms, down to his wrists. He grips hard, tugs at them, forcing him to fold his arms behind his back and Jaehyun pins them there.

Taeyong is so fucking sexy like this, naked from the waist down, ass up, his cheek and his chest pressed into the bed. Jaehyun grips his wrists and starts thrusting, slow and hard, and Taeyong keens softly with every thrust.

Everything is wiped clean from Jaehyun’s mind. Everything except Lee Taeyong. This feels too fucking good, holds him too fucking tight to let his mind drift, to let the guilt seep in. All he knows is Taeyong, his very own bundle of pleasure, indulgence, of every sick fucking fantasy realized. And he knows, the next morning, they’ll still be friends.

“Fuck,” Taeyong breathes. “Jaehyun, touch me,” he pleads.

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, just picks up the pace and watches how that destroys Taeyong. He’s desperate, and that makes him happy, watching him mouth wetly, helplessly at the sheets gives him some perverse satisfaction. He’s just so _in control_ , and he’s making this happen, and he’s okay with that because for the first time in his life he’s demanding what he wants and he’s getting it. He’s okay with this, because it’s Taeyong.

“Please, baby. Jaehyunnie, I want to come,” Taeyong begs.

Jaehyun feels his release inching close. “Can you come like this?”

Taeyong shakes his head, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Jaehyun releases his vice grip on Taeyong’s wrists, and the older straightens his arms out, wincing when pain spreads through his muscles from being held in the same twisted position for too long. He raises himself on one arm, Jaehyun’s hips keeping a relentless pace, his free hand wraps around his length. It’s excruciatingly good and he sobs, jerking himself faster and faster.

Taeyong is fucking close when suddenly, Jaehyun pulls out, grips his hips and turns him over onto his back. Taeyong whines, but then he realizes what Jaehyun is doing and the sound catches in his throat.

“Do you want me to…?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Taeyong gasps and Jaehyun’s hand wraps around his throat again and _fuck_ he’s not even being choked, just Jaehyun’s hand on his throat, heavy, pressing down only lightly. He comes onto his abdomen, his vision clouding black, pleasure tearing him from his body, and then Jaehyun’s hand is gone. When he gathers his senses, Jaehyun is straddling his hips, stroking himself, releasing onto Taeyong’s abdomen as well.

They’re both gasping for air when Taeyong reaches up with both hands like a child and Jaehyun bends down and lets himself be held and kissed. He cups Taeyong’s face, kisses him sweetly.

“Was that good?” Taeyong asks.

He’s unpleasantly surprised that he still hesitates before he opens his mouth and says “Fucking amazing.”

Taeyong smiles brighter than the sun, and for a second Jaehyun is lost in it, warm in the afterglow, pulled back when Taeyong slaps him softly, playfully. “Now get the fuck off. You’re so heavy. And we’re gross as shit.”

Jaehyun laughs out loud. He can’t help it. He climbs off and rolls onto his back, reaches over to the nightstand for tissue, handing Taeyong the box. He watches Taeyong cleaning himself up like some small cat, meticulous, delicate, and the older looks up at him, suddenly conscious. Jaehyun averts his eyes.

“Should I go? I’ll sleep in Donghyuk’s bed?” Jaehyun ventures, and he doesn’t really know why he asks instead of just fucking going.

“Stay,” Taeyong says softly, not meeting his eyes, just throwing away the used tissue.

Jaehyun nods, and he knows that’s what he wanted anyway. He knows that right now, if he were to leave Taeyong’s bed and sleep alone, he would dream all night again. He knows that he’d think and think and twist this till it’s not soft and warm anymore, till it hurts to think about, till he makes himself sick with shame. He doesn’t want that. He wants to lie here with his best friend and ask him to make it all go away. He’s already giving him so much.

“Hyung,” he whispers when Taeyong curls into his side. He wraps his arms around him, holds him close, like breathing in his scent would keep him safe. Taeyong kisses him quietly, and somehow he says the right thing. “Stop thinking, Jaehyunnie. I’m still your best friend. I’ll still be just that in the morning. Now sleep, okay?”

Jaehyun nods. Gives in. But he closes his eyes, and falls into a fucked up juxtaposition of dreams and memories, and Taeyong can’t save him from that.

He dreams of the time he broke up with that girl, told everyone it was because he needed to focus on academics. He went back to that boy a few times, before his mother caught wind of what he was doing. He didn’t know how, and he never asked, but the day she found out, he remembers going home to find his mother crying. She hugged him, he still remembers the warmth of her embrace, the refined floral scent of her perfume, and he still remembers what she said. He forced you, didn’t he? Tell me, son, you didn’t want to, right? You wouldn’t do such a thing, you wouldn’t.

He remembers the rush of shame, he remembers nodding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be fucking warned, author has no fucking idea how this is turning out or how it will turn out in the future. Reckless writing ftw.
> 
> Also if you have the time please do leave feedback. I've never written stuff like this before, and I want to make sure I do it right.  
> Thank you :B


	3. Chapter 3

Jaehyun wakes up with his heart in his throat. His eyes snap open, and the sleep fuzz in his brain lasts for a fleeting moment, and then he’s wide awake. He’s all wrapped up in a tangle of sheets and Taeyong, he realizes, and the only word ringing loud and grating in his ears is _twice_. Once could still have been a mistake. _Twice._

Does that mean something, that this could happen again? Another stolen night filled with a kind of pleasure he has never known, and then everything is completely normal the next morning? Should he _allow_ this to ever happen again?

He turns his head and looks at Taeyong’s sleeping face inches from his own. It’s soft, despite all its sharply masculine angles, it’s still the softest face he has ever seen on a man. Long black eyelashes feathered over pretty cheekbones, slightly parted lips, delicately shaped, now a little chapped from last night’s abuse. Strikingly feminine. If Taeyong were born a woman, he thinks. If he were born a woman, and Jaehyun woke up in bed like this with Taeyong, he would have felt a sense of achievement, pride even. He wouldn’t have thought twice about going asking for more, going back again and again.

But here he is, born a man, and Jaehyun still can’t fucking resist.

He pictures it in his head. How bad he wants him. How bad he wanted him last night, the crack in his defences when Taeyong leaned over and kissed him, his will crumbling when Taeyong said _let me_ , and took him in his hands. If Taeyong did that again, he thinks, would really he say no?

 “I can hear you thinking,” Taeyong mumbles before Jaehyun can answer that question.

Taeyong opens his eyes sleepily. “Stop thinking so much.”

“I’m not,” he says lamely.

A slow smile lights up Taeyong’s face. “What’s with that face, then?”

“I was just…”

“Thinking?” Taeyong provides.

“Wondering. I was wondering, is this going to be a thing now?”

Taeyong pauses. Shifts, sits up. It’s an important question.

“If you want it to be,” he says softly.

Jaehyun feels some sort of toothless anger flaring inside him. He doesn’t want to be the one to make this decision. Why couldn’t Taeyong just have said yes or no? Jaehyun would have gone along with whatever his hyung wanted, his own responsibility waived.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong calls. “Do you want this to happen again?”

Does he want to feel that sort of high again? Yes. _Yes._

Does he want to feel that sort of suffocating shame again?

“Would that be wrong of me?” he says, after a long, long moment.

Something flickers across Taeyong’s face, and then he’s draping himself over Jaehyun’s body, cupping his face, kissing his forehead.

“Would you ever knowingly hurt someone?” Taeyong asks.

“How is that relevant?” Jaehyun says, frowning. Taeyong doesn’t answer, his fingers reaching up to ease out the creases in Jaehyun’s forehead.

It’s clear Taeyong wants an answer, and Jaehyun doesn’t really know what to say. “No, I suppose not,” he says.

“I don’t think you would, either. I think you’re a good man. The kindest, nicest man I’ve ever met, and you couldn’t hurt a fly,” he says. “If you want me, and I want you back, are we hurting anyone?” he asks.

Jaehyun looks at him. “No,” he says. “I suppose not.”

“Then it’s not wrong, is it?”

Jaehyun struggles with that thought. No, they’re not hurting anyone. But that’s not… he doesn’t know. Twenty years of conditioning stands between him and reason.

“You’re just living your life, just getting what you want. That’s not wrong. _Your_ life, Hyunnie,” Taeyong reminds him gently. “You decide. Let me know.”

“Hyung,” Jaehyun pleads.

Taeyong smiles at him again. “Whatever you decide, nothing changes between us, okay?” he says. And it sounds final.

Jaehyun nods hesitantly. “I’ll think about it,” he says.

They slip into silence. And then Taeyong giggles. Jaehyun looks at him quizzically.

“Nothing, sorry,” Taeyong says. “We should probably have talked about this before we went and did it again, huh?”

Jaehyun cracks a smile. “Probably,” he says. “But you always do everything ass backwards anyway.”

“Not always,” Taeyong replies with a mischievous grin.

Jaehyun’s lips part, one scandalized sound slipping through. “That’s not what I… God, hyung, you’re terrible,” he says, a warm flush on the back of his neck. Taeyong laughs at his embarrassment, and it’s terribly contagious, and Jaehyun finds his own embarrassed rambling drifting into laughter.

 

Jaehyun is idling on the living room couch, watching some shitty B grade movie with Yuta. NCT127 promotions are petering out. They’re in this uncomfortable grey zone where the events on their schedule are spaced far enough to leave entirely free days in between, but still close enough to keep them all from going back home.

That makes him half happy, half miserable. Happy because fuck, enough time to sleep and breathe and waste on watching shitty B grade movies. Miserable because now, with all this free time, he’s running out of excuses to delay thinking about his equation with Taeyong.

He _has_ been thinking about it, just like he told Taeyong. He’s been thinking and thinking and spinning in tightly wound circles of I want to but I shouldn’t but I _want_ to. He hasn’t really reached any sort of conclusion yet.

It’s as if the universe is listening to his musings, because he hears the sound of keys jangling and then the front door opens and Taeyong comes in, returning from god knows where. Jaehyun watches him closing the door behind him, toeing his shoes off and putting them away, and his mind is filled with a resounding _he looks so good in that sweater_.

“I’m back,” Taeyong announces, stepping into the living room. Both Jaehyun and Yuta make disinterested noises of acknowledgment, but Jaehyun’s is a little forced.

“Brats,” Taeyong grumbles, and settles down on the couch next to Jaehyun. “Mind if I join you?” he asks.

Jaehyun shakes his head, and Yuta makes that same disinterested sound again, and Taeyong makes himself comfortable against Jaehyun’s side. If Jaehyun is hyperaware of Taeyong’s warmth and the softness of his sweater against his body, he doesn’t show it. His face is neutral, he thinks, he hopes.

“Where did you go, hyung?” he asks, trying to make conversation and distract himself.

“Met a friend,” Taeyong replies, but he doesn’t volunteer any more information and Jaehyun doesn’t really care, so the subject is dropped with a nod and an _Ah, okay_.

Ten minutes pass, and Yuta yawns. “So this movie sucks,” he says flatly.

Both Taeyong and Jaehyun nod matter-of-factly. A few more minutes pass.

“Okay fuck this, I’m taking a nap,” Yuta declares and shuffles off towards his room.

Taeyong sits up. “That actually sounds like a solid plan,” he says. “What are you going to do now?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “I might actually finish this movie,” he says. “Too lazy to move.”

Taeyong laughs. “Couch potato,” he says, getting to his feet.

Jaehyun grins, and he’s just beginning to relax when Taeyong stretches, right in front of him, and there’s skin and a small navel within reach. Jaehyun swallows thickly, averting his eyes, but he can’t wipe the image from his mind. He wants to lean forward and hold him by the waist and put his mouth on that skin and dip his tongue in that bellybutton. He can, if he wants to, they’re all alone in the living room, nobody would see. And God, he wants to.

Taeyong’s body relaxes, and then the skin is hidden again. “Good night, Jaehyunnie,” he says and ruffles Jaehyun’s hair.

“Good night, hyung,” Jaehyun says, and his voice is steadier than he thought it would be, but when Taeyong’s hand is slipping away from him, and Taeyong’s body is turning away from him, something gives.

 _I want to_.

He’s standing up, and his fingers are curling around Taeyong’s wrist, pulling him back. Taeyong turns to him, surprise evident in his face, and Jaehyun can feel himself chickening out.

_But I shouldn’t._

“What is it?” Taeyong asks.

There’s a pregnant pause, filled with Jaehyun struggling to get the words out. Taeyong’s surprise gives way to understanding. He waits.

“Nothing,” Jaehyun says. He releases Taeyong. “It’s nothing.”

Taeyong regards him wordlessly for a long while.

“Okay. Good night then,” he says, but he doesn’t leave before kissing Jaehyun on the cheek. It’s torturous for Jaehyun, the soft whisper of lips on his skin, a suggestion of a kiss, warm breath against the shell of his ear, urging him gently to just give in. Taeyong pulls away.

“Think about it,” he says, and he leaves.

 

Days drag on, with the same scattering of events and great yawning stretches of free time in between. They’ve been getting a lot of endorsement deals for clothing brands and Jaehyun finds that the photoshoots are difficult. Partly because no matter how many photoshoots he does, he finds that he’s still uncomfortable in front of a camera. It doesn’t come with the same ease that it does for Taeyong or Yuta, he thinks.

And that’s the second reason. Every single one of these shoots has him thinking about the one that got him into this mess. Taeyong against a wall, draped over a sofa, even sitting in a corner looking completely nonchalant, pushing him over the edge and sparking their descent into this strange situation. He remembers everything they did to each other, and each time it happens he finds himself insanely uncomfortable in Taeyong's presence, just barely getting through it.

Each time, the thought that saves him is the same. He’s lived twenty years without touching Taeyong. He can go twenty more, he tells himself. He’s lived eleven years tasting shame. He doesn’t want it for a day longer.

 

It’s late on a free afternoon, and Jaehyun is lying on the couch, reading, when he hears the front door opening and closing, and Taeyong’s voice calling out a greeting.

“Hi, hyung,” he mumbles back. “Where’d you go?”

“Just lunch with a friend,” he says.

“Oh yeah, which one?” Jaehyun asks, only half paying attention.

“Minjun,” he says. “Park Minjun. You don’t know him.”

“Cool,” Jaehyun responds, briefly wondering how Taeyong ended up with a friend Jaehyun doesn’t know, because really, all of Taeyong’s friends could be counted on one hand.

 

“Yuta hyung have you seen my black hat?” Jaehyun calls out, rummaging through his closet. He’s had it with Yuta borrowing his stuff and never returning it, and he’s more than prepared to kick his ass when he sees him. He hears footsteps in the hallway and then Yuta appears at the door.

“Did you call me?” he says.

“My hat, the plain black one, have you seen it?” he asks, the slightest hint of accusation in his voice.

“Didn’t Taeyong hyung borrow it the other day?”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says, and a brief memory of _Jaehyunnie I'm taking this_ is lit up in a far corner of his mind. Maybe Taeyong did borrow it. He mentally apologizes for planning to kick Yuta’s ass.

“You thought I took it, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh my god, I can’t do this anymore. Hair in the drain, blame Yuta. Missing hats, blame Yuta. Brexit, blame Yuta,” he grumbles.

Jaehyun laughs, a little sheepish, and mumbles out an aplogy, hurrying out of the room.

Jaehyun is still laughing when he goes to Taeyong’s door, unthinkingly opening it and walking in. He freezes, and he almost turns around and bolts out of the room, because Taeyong is almost naked. He’s standing there in his boxers, pulling his jeans on when Jaehyun barges in. Jaehyun is dumbstruck, doesn’t know what to do, but Taeyong seems completely unfazed, even managing to smile at him, all the while calmly getting dressed.

“Sorry,” he says. He knows his eyes are lingering on the pale, toned expanse of Taeyong’s torso.

“Did you need something?” Taeyong says, straightening up and turning to him. Jaehyun needs to force himself to look away.

“Um. My hat,” he says.

“Oh, sorry, it’s in my closet,” Taeyong says, pulling a t shirt on. Jaehyun steps in, relieved that Taeyong is more clothed now, and closes the door behind him. Besides, they change in front of each other all the time, he tells himself, it’s completely normal. He shouldn’t make this weird.

He doesn’t have to search through Taeyong’s stuff, because this psychotic neat freak had all his clothes stacked up or hung meticulously in his closet, and Jaehyun’s hat is just sitting there on top of a stack of t shirts.

“Thanks hyung,” Jaehyun says, willing the flush out of his cheeks before he turns around. He doesn’t even know why he tried, because when he does turn, he sees that Taeyong is pulling his t shirt off again.

“Um?” Jaehyun manages when Taeyong walks towards the closet.

“Looks weird,” Taeyong says, reaching past Jaehyun to pick out a blue button down. Jaehyun’s chest tightens and the flush he tried to fight comes rushing back when he realizes just how close he is to Taeyong’s naked skin. He could just touch it, run his hands over his chest, close his lips around those small nipples. 

“The black one,” Jaehyun says, struggling to act normal. “I like it on you.”

“Really?” Taeyong says, smiling at him, and Jaehyun knows he wants to touch him so bad, and he knows he should leave before he does something stupid, so he drops his gaze, nods, excuses himself and leaves.

 

He bites back a small smile when they’re all being packed into the van and Taeyong comes in last wearing a black button down.

 

 

Taeyong goes out twice that week, and both times he tells Jaehyun he’s meeting a friend, and returns several hours later. It doesn’t really bother him, but when he finds Taeyong getting dressed to go out again that weekend, something unpleasant stirs inside him.

“Same friend?” Jaehyun asks.

“Minjun, yeah.”

“That’s thrice in ten days.”

“You’re counting?” Taeyong asks with a barely there smile.

“No, I… just happened to notice,” Jaehyun replies. How fucking embarrassing, he thinks.

“He’s going back to Hong Kong in two weeks,” he says. “Just thought we’d make the most of it.”

Jaehyun nods, and he doesn’t say a word when Taeyong leaves, but the hours he spends in his room waiting for Taeyong feel strangely torturous. It’s something new, he realizes. He knows the maddening want, the pleasure Taeyong can show him. And he knows the nauseating shame-guilt cocktail in the pit of his stomach. But when he thinks of all the times these past few days that Taeyong has giggled at something on his phone, he feels something else. Something new, something pushing him to gather Taeyong up in his arms and say _mine._

 

Taeyong leaves early from one of their events. It’s when they’re in hair and makeup that his phone starts buzzing incessantly. He ignores the first few buzzes, but they just keep coming and Taeyong picks the phone up and looks at it, and that’s when Jaehyun sees the name on the notification banner. Park Minjun.

 _Call me_ , the text says. And the next one says _please._

Jaehyun sees the uncertainty in Taeyong’s eyes, and the way he slips out quietly after a few minutes to make a phone call, the small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he comes back inside.

After their filming, the other members stick around to support NCT dream, but Taeyong just pats Mark on the back, and leaves soon after his work is done. For personal reasons, he tells the manager, and he has never done this before and the manager trusts him, so he lets him go without any questions.

Jaehyun has questions.

“Everything okay?” Jaehyun asks, stopping Taeyong on his way out.

Taeyong nods. “Minjun is leaving tomorrow, so I sort of need to see him today,” he says.

“When will you be back?”

“Depends on how the night goes. Late, most probably,” Taeyong replies.

Jaehyun tries his best not to read too deeply into that. _Depends on how the night goes._

 

Jaehyun finds himself unable to relax. They’ve been home for almost two hours, it’s nearing 10 pm and Taeyong isn’t back yet. He doesn’t know why that bothers him so much, they’re friends after all. Perhaps it’s because the two of them seem close, but Taeyong never told Jaehyun about this Park Minjun. He thinks maybe that means there’s something to hide. Or perhaps he’s just being a clingy best friend, he thinks. Just being immature about Taeyong giving this completely unfamiliar guy precedence over him.

He decides to treat the maknaes to dinner, something to brighten up their day after hours of work, something to take his mind off what Taeyong could be doing out for so long. He orders in, basking in the younger members’ excitement for the half hour or so that it takes for the food to arrive.

When it does arrive, it’s a mess filled with “Stop eating all the pickles,” and “Jaehyun hyung, you’re the most beautiful human being,” and “Donghyuk will you pass the damn chicken,” and “Jesus, Mark close your mouth.”

He isn’t thinking about Taeyong, not at all. But when the excitement passes, and it’s time to clean up, Jaehyun looks at his watch. 11:49 pm. Still no Taeyong.

He sighs, putting all the dishes and cutlery in the delivery box and carrying it to the hallway to leave it outside the door. There are hushes voices coming from the far end of the hallway, they sound agitated, but Jaehyun ignores them, his mind full of _where the fuck is hyung_. He puts the box down by the door with a huff, but before he returns inside, he pauses. Maybe he should just check on Taeyong. See if he’s okay, since it’s getting pretty late.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dials Taeyong’s number, and it takes a few disoriented moments for him to realize that Taeyong’s ringtone is echoing in the hallway. It’s coming from the far end, where the voices are coming from, more heated than before.

Taeyong is here. Right down the hall. With someone, with Park Minjun.

Jaehyun can’t help himself when he walks slowly towards the sound, phone still glued to his ear. The ringtone stops, and Jaehyun hears a mechanical voice in his ear telling him the person he is trying to call is not answering. In the silence that follows, he hears an unfamiliar male voice desperately saying “Ask me to stay.”

Jaehyun’s heart sinks, and when he rounds the corner, he sees it. Some tall, handsome stranger, gripping Taeyong’s wrist with an intimacy that doesn’t belong to friendship, his face close to Taeyong’s, too close for friendship.

“Taeyongie,” he says, his voice low and personal. “Please, just ask me to stay.”

“Do whatever you want,” Taeyong replies.

Jaehyun feels strange, like he’s intruding on some extremely private moment, the baring of someone’s heart. He tries to hurry back, but the stranger, Minjun, looks up at him in that exact moment, and he steps back from Taeyong, seemingly conscious of their proximity, but he’s still holding Taeyong by the wrist. Taeyong turns to look, wondering what Minjun is looking at, and he starts when he realizes it’s Jaehyun.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun doesn’t miss the way Minjun’s grip tightens on Taeyong’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, I just heard voices and I… sorry,” Jaehyun says, holding his hands up apologetically. “I’ll go,” he says, his eyes flitting down unintentionally to that possessive grip.

Taeyong pries his hand out of Minjun’s grip.

“No, wait,” he says. “Uh, this is Minjun. Minjun, this is Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun shakes his hand, and notes the small, forced smile on the other’s face. He really is handsome, Jaehyun decides. In the raw, unpolished way of someone who hasn’t been sanded down and shined to perfection by the industry.

An awkward silence descends between them.

“We should head back,” Taeyong says, and Minjun shoots him a look.

“Call me tonight,” Minjun says to Taeyong.

Taeyong only responds with a tired “Go home,” slipping his hand into Jaehyun’s.

“It was nice meeting you,” Jaehyun manages to say when he feels Taeyong tugging at his hand.

“Likewise,” Minjun replies, and Taeyong tugs again, and Jaehyun follows him down the hallway. Taeyong doesn’t spare a look over the shoulder at Park Minjun standing desolately behind them.

 

They’re back in the dorm, and the air between them is strangely charged. Jaehyun walks into the kitchen to finish cleaning up, and Taeyong follows him.

“We need to talk about this, don’t we?” Taeyong says, after a long moment.

“Who is he?” Jaehyun says quietly, unceremoniously.

“An old friend.”

“A friend?”

Taeyong nods.

“Like us?”

_Like did you let him fuck you?_

Taeyong doesn’t say anything.

“If I said yes?” he says at last.

Jaehyuns shrugs. He wonders if he should ask.

“Are you still..?”

“No. Are you crazy? No, it’s been over for almost a year now.”

Jaehyun lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s relieved, because his mind was screaming _did you let me do all those things to you, and the whole time you were his?_

“Were you just… Did you love him?” he asks.

“Jaehyun.”

“I didn’t mean to pry. I was just surprised that you didn’t mention him, ever.”

“It was a long time ago. It didn’t really work out for us, it wasn’t worth talking about.”

"What happened?"

"A lot of things. It's over now."

Jaehyun nods. “It sounded like it wasn’t over for him, though. Are you going to give him another chance?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because of…” Taeyong gestures between them, and then his face closes off, his hand freezing midair and then falling limply to his side. “Because of the kind of life we live,” he finishes unconvincingly.

Jaehyun looks at him.

“Good,” Jaehyun says, and that something, that _something_ , is pushing him to do something stupid.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaehyun steps closer to Taeyong, cups his jaw and says “Good.”

“Because I want you all for myself,” he says, and Taeyong gasps even before he kisses him. It’s abrupt, like he doesn’t want to put into words what he could just show Taeyong. It’s bruising. He’s been holding this back for too long. Taeyong staggers backwards but Jaehyun’s arm wraps securely around his waist, anchoring him to his body. Taeyong seems to gather himself and finally realize what’s happening, because his hands slide into Jaehyun’s hair and his tongue licks hotly at Jaehyun’s.

They break apart gasping at the violence of that kiss. The distance lasts only long enough for Taeyong to pull Jaehyun towards the bathroom. Taeyong pushes him against the door, mouth on the side of his neck, one hand pressing into his chest and the other fumbling blindly with the doorknob. Jaehyun’s head hits the wood with a thud, and a gasp is almost lost in that sound. The door swings open, and both of them fall into the half dark bathroom. Taeyong just barely manages to get the door closed behind them before Jaehyun is pulling him back against his body and claiming his mouth once again.

Taeyong pushes him against the counter, palming him, stroking him over his pajamas. Jaehyun is trying to breathe normally, but his breath comes in shaky gasps at best. He stops trying when Taeyong breaks the kiss and leans in, whispering “Should I suck you off?” into his ear. He stops breathing, managing a nod, watching Taeyong sink to his knees, pressing kisses to his clothed arousal. Taeyong hooks his fingers into Jaehyun’s pajamas, pulls till his member is freed.

Jaehyun grips the counter in anticipation and closes his eyes when Taeyong takes him in his hand and presses a soft kiss to the tip. He sucks the head into his mouth, tongue swirling wetly and then takes him deeper. He bobs his head a few times, gets Jaehyun good and worked up, and then he pulls off. Jaehyun waits for that warmth to engulf him again, but it doesn’t come. He opens his eyes, looks down, and finds that Taeyong is just looking up at him, teeth digging into his lower lip, biting down a cheeky smile. He’s teasing him, this asshole, like he isn’t frustrated enough.

He cups Taeyong’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Hyung,” he whispers, but really it’s a _please_. His eyes are on Taeyong’s eyes even as they darken and the smile slips from him lips, and his mouth opens and sinks slowly down the length of his arousal. Jaehyun feels everything, the way his throat relaxes around him and struggles to accommodate his size. Taeyong closes his eyes and swallows. Jaehyun almost groans out an expletive, but he makes do with a quiet keen. He feels a shiver in his skin, and he doesn’t really know how because Taeyong is so warm against him, and his mouth is so, so hot.

Jaehyun’ hips jerk, and Taeyong’s hands fly out to pin him against the counter, fighting back a gag. Jaehyun strokes his cheeks again, some kind of apology. But then Taeyong’s throat relaxes again, and stays that way, and his hands fall away from Jaehyun’s hips. He opens his eyes, looks up at Jaehyun as if urging him to do whatever he wants. Jaehyun can’t, won’t believe it. He waits for Taeyong to move, but he doesn’t. It’s on him, he realizes.

His hands slide hesitantly into Taeyong’s hair, palm flush against the curve of his skull to hold him in place, and he moves his hips. Gentle, careful. Taeyong takes it so well, and in between gasps and shudders and thrusts he wonders where he learned that. Park Minjun?

He pushes the thought away. Drowns in the pleasure being offered to him. He’s thrusting faster, his release is coming, he realizes, and pulls away from Taeyong. What he doesn’t expect is to be pulled back to Taeyong’s open mouth wordlessly.

“Taeyong hyung,” he chokes out. “I’m going to come.”

And Taeyong responds with an invitation, “Come.”

It’s too much, that raw whisper, it’s been too long since he did this. Release washes over him. Jaehyun almost chokes, watching himself coming into his hyungs’s mouth, watching Taeyong’s tongue swirl in his release, watching him fucking _swallowing it._

His body sags against the counter, vaguely registering Taeyong getting to his feet, pulling Jaehyun’s pajamas back up till he’s decent again. Jaehyun’s vision clears a little, and he sees his hyung smiling sweetly at him, like he wasn’t just on his knees with a cock in his mouth. Jaehyun pulls him close, arms wrapping around his waist, and he feels lips on his neck, pressing soft butterfly kisses into his skin.

“You’ve made your decision, then?” he whispers.

Jaehyun nods.

“Go to bed,” Taeyong says softly. “I’ll go in a bit.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I want to stay here,” he says, unbuttoning Taeyong’s jeans, watching him swallow thickly, a shudder running through his body. He takes one of Taeyong’s hands in his own, guides it to the older man’s arousal. “Do it,” he whispers. “I want to watch you.”

Taeyong is breathing raggedly, his lips are parted, his eyes fixed on Jaehyun’s face. Jaehyun leans back against the counter, watches him push his hand further into his jeans. He pulls him closer by the waist, kisses him deeply, and Taeyong’s free arm drapes over Jaehyun’s shoulder.

A few lazy tugs, and it seems like the slide isn’t slick enough because Taeyong breaks the kiss and raises his hand to his mouth to spit in it.

Jaehyun grabs his wrist, brings the hand to his own mouth, presses a kiss to his palm, lips pursing slightly, letting his saliva pool in Taeyong’s outstretched hand. Taeyong’s eyes are filled with a sort of disbelief when Jaehyun pulls away.

“Jesus, Jaehyun,” Taeyong breathes, his fingertips brushing Jaehyun’s lower lip to gather up the last strings of spit. His slips his hand back into his jeans, and Jaehyun can’t really see what he’s doing, just the effect it’s having on him – face flushed pink, teeth worrying his lower lip, pupils blown.

“You look so good like this,” Jaehyun whispers, and Taeyong groans. “You’re so pretty, hyung. Look at you.”

He moves behind Taeyong so he can watch himself in the bathroom mirror. He leans in to mouth at the side of Taeyong’s neck. “Look at you, hyung,” he says, pushing Taeyong’s jeans further down so he can see his hand moving over his arousal. Taeyong is trembling at this point, jerking himself faster and faster, and he doesn’t look like he can stay standing for much longer. Jaehyun wraps an arm around his abdomen, pulling him flush against his body, chest pressed against his back. Taeyong’s free hand reaches back to fist into the material on Jaehyun’s pajamas.

Taeyong angles his head back, and Jaehyun cups his jaw with the hand that isn’t holding him up and catches his lips in a messy kiss that tastes like musk and sex. He can tell Taeyong is close. He releases his lips, mouthing along his jaw, whispering “Look at me.”

He raises his eyes to the mirror and Taeyong’s reflection is looking right at him, and Jaehyun holds his gaze and whispers “Come for me.”

Taeyong whines, one, two, three more tugs and he’s coming undone with a sharp gasp. Jaehyun feels his shoulders winging against his chest, his body locking up for a few moments before relaxing. He noses at Taeyong’s cheek, pressing kisses to his jaw, smiling when Taeyong leans into it.

“Fuck,” Taeyong breathes. “That was hot.”

Jaehyun nods, holding Taeyong till he gathers himself and pushes him away to clean himself up. Jaehyun watches him taking a wad of tissue, wetting it and wiping at his skin.

The question is on the tip of his tongue.

“Hyung.”

Taeyong hums.

“How are you so good at this stuff?”

Taeyong laughs, hushed, surprised, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Practice?” Jaehyun asks.

His smile fades away, and he stays silent.

“That guy from before?” Jaehyun asks, keeping his voice neutral.

Taeyong doesn’t say anything for a moment, busying himself with disposing of the used tissue and clothing himself properly. And then he looks at Jaehyun. Really looks at him.

“Are you jealous?” he asks.

Is that what that something is?

 “No. Of course not. We’re friends.”

 

“Friends?” Taeyong says flatly. “ _That’s_ your decision?”

Jaehyun hears the disappointment, despite Taeyong’s best efforts to hide it. No, not friends. Not exactly friends. He fumbles blindly for the words he wants, the words he needs to say to keep Taeyong with him.

He thinks about Taeyong hyung. The only person in the world who showed him what pleasure means. The only one who told him it’s his life, and gave him the freedom to want what he wants, and take what he wants. And it’s the thought of Park Minjun, waltzing in and taking that from him while he stands around hesitating that pushes him to say it.

“Friends, who do stuff?” he ventures.

He knows he sounds as unsure as he feels.

“Friends who do stuff,” Taeyong repeats, and it sounds even stupider the second time.

“You mean like friends with benefits?” the older asks.

Jaehyun nods. Taeyong seems to be hesitating, and for a second Jaehyun is terrified that he made the wrong choice.

“Okay, I don’t… Just now, when you said you wanted me all for yourself. You sounded so sure, I thought… But you’re still not sure, Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong says softly.

No he’s not. He’s really not. He’s just saying things to keep Taeyong close to him, because he’s afraid of losing his catharsis, his gratification, his Taeyong hyung. He wishes he wasn’t so ridiculously see through around Taeyong. He thinks about that for a second, but Taeyong cuts him off.

“I mean,” he says. “I don’t want you to regret this. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“What do you mean, hyung?” Jaehyun asks.

Taeyong comes closer, cups his face. “When you ask me if we’re doing something bad, and when you ask me if it’s wrong to want this, Hyunnie, I know what that means. When you spend a week pretending you never touched me, and when you look so fucking terrified before I kiss you, I know what that means, too.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes, and there’s an image in his head, sixteen years old, no food for two days, lying alone in a room locked from the outside.

_Mom, I’m hungry, let me out._

_Will you ever do those disgusting things again?_

_No, I swear I won’t._

 

“Is it your parents?” Taeyong asks.

How does he know? Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, but he knows he can’t breathe because there’s a lump of burning coal in his throat. Why is he talking about these things?

“I didn’t want to force you to talk about it, Jaehyun. But if you want to do this, I need to know.”

He needs to know. He needs certainty. Jaehyun owes him at least that much.

Is he sure? In his mind, he’s eighteen years old, spending a night with a girl for the first time. The body underneath him, all soft curves and breasts and delicate shoulders, so fucking right, everything Jaehyun should want, but God, he felt nothing.

 “Jaehyunnie?” Taeyong whispers, his lips brushing Jaehyun’s forehead.

Those lips, Jaehyun has learnt their shape and their warmth and he knows how they fit against his. The fingers dancing softly over his skin, the weight his palms when they rest against his chest, he knows that touch.

That body underneath him, Taeyong’s body, so fucking wrong, missing all the parts it should have for Jaehyun to like it, but God, Jaehyun loves it. He’s sure. He likes the fullness of Taeyong’s shoulders, his flat, toned chest, the muscles in his abdomen, his thighs, tight from years of dancing, and everything in between. He’s sure.

“I want you, Jaehyunnie. But I want you to be sure. I don’t want you to feel ashamed of it, or afraid of it. I don’t want you to think of anyone else. Not your parents, not anyone. Tell me what you want.”

The cacophony in his head is receding, Taeyong’s voice filtering through, singular and clear.

_What I want._

Now there’s silence. Nobody but him and Taeyong. Not the threat of losing his family, not the threat of losing Taeyong to Minjun. He tries to think about it as an isolated question. What does he want?

He wants to hold him, kiss him. He wants to fuck him. He wants to want, and feel fucking good about it.

He wants to just be, and he wants to cry, because his hyung gives him so much.

“I’ll accept you,” Taeyong says, his arms linking around Jaehyun’s neck. “I’m the same as you. And I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter what your mum and dad did or said. Listen to me. Just say it out loud. The truth, Hyunnie. Just say everything you’ve been too afraid to say, say it out loud. I’ll accept you no matter what.”

Jaehyun still hesitates, eleven years of fear and shame gripping at his ankles, but Taeyong kisses his cheek and whispers “Say it,” and Jaehyun crumbles.

“I like men,” he breathes, and it feels like a weight off his chest.

 “Keep going,” Taeyong says, thumbs brushing the wetness off Jaehyun’s cheeks. He doesn’t even know when he started crying, and then it’s a flood of all the words he’s tied down and wished away for so long.

“I like doing those things with you, so much, hyung I want you. I’ve never felt like that before, Jesus, it never felt so right with those girls. My dad, he tried to beat it out of me, but it won’t go anywhere hyung. Is it that wrong? I don’t know. Shit. Am I even making sense?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says. “You are.”

“I want to let myself touch you, and I want to feel good about it. Don’t go anywhere, hyung. Promise me. You’re the only one that made this okay, and I’m scared you’ll leave and then I’ll be left trying to figure this out by myself. I can’t. I hate them for making me like this,” he chokes out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Taeyong says, smiling. “Whether you want me by your side as just a friend, or as a friend who does stuff. Whatever it is, I’m here. Whatever you decide is okay, I just don’t want you to make a mistake.”

Whatever he decides is okay. Whatever he wants, he’ll get. He wants to wonder why, when his own blood has stepped on him for all these years, this man chooses to be so kind to him. The answer is there, quiet in the back of his mind, that drunken kiss and whispered confession. Someday, he’ll have the courage to think about it. Not today, not now.

“Thank you, hyung,” he says, and he means it. Thank you for showing me what I want, thank you for freeing me, thank you for being patient, for loving me, and I’m sorry for pretending like I don’t know. He buries his face in the Taeyong’s shoulder, and he really doesn’t mean to, but he cries.

For twenty minutes he just cries, and it’s not sadness, it’s relief. It’s air in his lungs, words no longer stuck in his throat. Taeyong holds him, running a soothing hand over his back, letting him muffle his sobs in Taeyong’s shoulder, pressing kisses and whispers into his hair.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry nobody told you it’s okay to be like this. It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here.”

Wrapped up in Taeyong’s warmth, brave in his arms, his sobs subside into shudders, and those recede into sniffles, and then his breathing evens out, and that’s when Jaehyun straightens up and pulls away.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all that.”

“Shut up, Hyunnie,” Taeyong replies.

“I’m sure now,” he says. “I want you and I won’t let myself feel bad about it.”

“Good.”

“I’m gay,” Jaehyun says defeatedly. “I’m so fucking gay. I’ve never said that out loud.”

Taeyong smiles. “I’m pretty fucking gay, too, in case you haven’t noticed,” he says. “Flaming rainbow colors kind of gay.”

Jaehyun smiles, a thin, watery smile, and it slowly blooms into a laugh.

“So, friends with benefits then?” Taeyong asks, when a sort of expectant silence settles between them.

Jaehyun nods.

“Sounds good,” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun hugs him again.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jaehyun whispers.

“You said that already,” Taeyong says with a laugh. “Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

Jaehyun nods. “That was fucking exhausting.”

“The crying or the horny stuff?”

Jaehyun laughs. “Both,” he says, and he feels lighter.

They walk side by side in the hallway, and they stop in front of Taeyong’s door.

“Come to bed with me,” Taeyong whispers.

“What about Donghyuk? He’s sleeping in your room tonight.”

“What about him? It’s not like we’re going to have sex now or anything,” he says. “I just don’t want you going to bed by yourself. Not tonight. You’ll start thinking again, and then God help us.”

Jaehyun laughs despite himself, and he lets Taeyong take him by the wrist, and pull him gently into his room. “Come on,” he says, and Jaehyun nods. He knows he really doesn’t want to fight this. He knows he needs that warmth and those skinny arms to make him brave.

So he lets himself be led to Taeyong's bed in the dark bedroom, and he burrows under the covers while Taeyong gets changed. And when Taeyong comes back to lie down next to him, he pulls him close. Feels his arm draping over his torso, his head resting on Jaehyun's chest, lifting only to press a quiet kiss to Jaehyun's cheek and whisper goodnight. Jaehyun can't help himself when he leans down and kisses him on the mouth, another quiet, warm kiss and a whispered goodnight.

He knows he needs this, his catharsis, his gratification, his Taeyong hyung.

 


	5. Chapter 5

When Taeyong wakes up, at 3:45 am the next morning, his first thought is that he dreamt the whole thing. But then his muddy eyes focus and his mind aligns with reality, and he realizes that he is, in fact nuzzling Jaehyun’s shoulder, that he has his arm draped over the younger’s waist, that he’s spooning him in his bed and that’s allowed now.

Or is it? He doesn’t know. That’s something they’ll have to work out. Can I cuddle you in bed? Can I kiss you whenever I want? Can I hold your hand or will it be just sex?

Whatever it is, it’s fine, he thinks. It’s fine, because he’s getting something, anything from Jaehyun. He’s opening up and letting him in, even if they are only friends with benefits.

And right now, he’s asleep, and that means Taeyong can cheat a little, color outside the lines, just a little, just to make himself a little happier. He can take just a tiny bit more than Jaehyun would give.

He wraps his arm a little tighter around Jaehyun’s waist, pulls him closer carefully. Jaehyun squirms in his arms, and Taeyong sighs in defeat. He’s always been such a light sleeper.

“Hyung?” he whispers.                                         

Taeyong hums, wondering if he ended up cutting his moment short in his eagerness to hold him close.

“Why are you the big spoon?” Jaehyun asks, and for a second Taeyong doesn’t know what to say, and then he chuckles lightly. He pulls his arm back, rolling over onto his other side, the rustling of sheets telling him that Jaehyun is following along. Soon there’s a warm chest pressed against his back, his own body tucked under a heavy arm. Taeyong relaxes into his hold.

“Better?” he whispers.

He feels Jaehyun nodding behind him, feels his smile against the skin of his neck. Well, he thinks. Cuddling is allowed then.

 

The next day is a bit more awkward than Taeyong bargained for.

He wakes up to an empty bed and a text from Jaehyun saying he left so that the maknae wouldn’t wake up and see them in bed like that. He smiles, satisfied that Jaehyun even bothered to explain his absence. Unlike the morning after the first time they had sex, when Taeyong woke up to a cold bed, not knowing when Jaehyun had left, or why. But he remembers the look on the younger’s face when they sat together for breakfast that morning. Some kind of terror, and maybe it was regret, Taeyong didn’t really know, but that was the moment he realized why his bed was empty that morning.

He wants to trust Jaehyun, trust everything he said the previous night, and he wants to wish his fear away. But he has trusted Jaehyun before, way before this mess. One drunken night, one drunken kiss, uncertain, chaste, one whispered truth, and then tongues and spit and hands till they fell asleep together. And then the next morning, an empty bed and a forgotten night, no explanations offered.

So when he feels a familiar trepidation like wet sand in the pit of his stomach when he gets out of bed to get dressed, he isn’t surprised.

One foot in front of the other, acutely aware of everything, the rhythmic sound of a drink being stirred, the clink of a spoon against a cup, Jaehyun’s familiar scent lingering in the hallway. Taeyong walks into the kitchen.

“Morning hyung,” Jaehyun says.

“Morning,” Taeyong replies, his voice still scratchy from the damage Jaehyun did to his throat.

“Coffee?” Jaehyun asks brightly, and Taeyong nods.

It’s strange, he thinks. It seems so… normal. Has he decided to forget again?

Jaehyun pours him a cup of coffee, the tallest mug they own, glazed a pretty mint green, used only for Taeyong. It isn’t until Jaehyun holds the mug out for him to take that he sees the composure slipping. Jaehyun’s hands are trembling, he realizes, his heart sinking into the sludge in his gut.

He reaches out, gently taking the cup from Jaehyun’s hand, setting it down on the counter. Jaehyun isn’t saying anything, and he isn’t meeting his eyes, and he’s worried, he’s scared for himself because he can’t take this again. He takes Jaehyun’s hand in his, running a thumb soothingly over his knuckles.

“You’re scared,” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun nods, and Taeyong is losing hope.

“Do you… want to take it all back?” Taeyong whispers, and he’s a little amazed that he managed to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Jaehyun looks up at him with wide eyes, shaking his head even before his mouth opens to say “No hyung, no way.”

Taeyong swallows thickly, his grip tightening around Jaehyun’s hand.

“You want to do this.”

Jaehyun nods again, and it’s taking a few moments longer than usual for it to sink in.

“This is really happening, then?” Taeyong asks, disbelief laced through his words.

Jaehyun cracks a smile. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

Taeyong smiles back, half habit, half poorly contained excitement, when he leans towards Jaehyun and presses one long, happy kiss to the highest point of his cheekbone. He pulls back a little, but then Jaehyun tugs at his hand, pulling him back.

“What is it?” Taeyong asks.

“I… I want to kiss you,” Jaehyun says softly.

Taeyong’s heart hammers out an erratic beat. He nods, his hands sliding up Jaehyun’s arms and over his shoulders. He waits, his face inches from Jaehyun’s, but he knows Jaehyun is still struggling, and he wants to kiss Jaehyun, too. He leans in, closing the gap between their mouths. It’s a little strange, that this is allowed now, perfectly within the bounds of what defines their relationship. It’s a little strange, a little hard to believe that after so much time aching for this, it has actually happened.

His hand is on the back of Jaehyun’s neck, steadying him while his mouth fits against Jaehyun’s, moves perfectly against it. Jaehyun’s arms are around his torso, pulling him close. The minty burn of toothpaste is still lingering on Taeyong’s tongue when his lips part and Jaehyun licks at his mouth, and then his senses are filled with the taste of Jaehyun. Something sweet and coffee flavored.

What a lovely morning, Taeyong thinks, when Jaehyun’s hands slide down his back to hold him by the waist and kiss him deeper. It sends some fluttering pleasure through Taeyong’s body, being held like that, and kissed like that, like he belongs in Jaehyun’s arms.

They break the kiss for a moment, to breathe, but they remain wound together like that. Somewhere in the back of Taeyong’s mind he knows that this is more than friends, more than friends with benefits, but it’s not ready to be called anything else yet. Not now. Not today.

Today they will kiss in the kitchen for no good reason.

Jaehyun hoists Taeyong up to have him sitting on the kitchen counter, and Taeyong draws Jaehyun in with his legs. They kiss like that for a while, Jaehyun’s hand wandering over Taeyong’s thigh, and the pleasure Taeyong feels at this point is very different. He moans quietly into Jaehyun’s soft mouth, but at that exact moment, a door opens somewhere in the dorm, and groggy footsteps echo in the hallway, and they spring apart in record time.

Jaehyun turns away, distracts himself with something inane, and Taeyong jumps off the counter, picking up his mint green mug and taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee like nothing ever happened.

Winwin enters the kitchen, and if he notices that the air is a little hotter in there, if he notices the pink tinting Taeyong’s ears and the warmth in his cheeks, if he notices the awkward set of Jaehyun’s shoulders and his mussed hair, he doesn’t say anything. He just picks up a bottle of water, throws a half-hearted greeting their way, and goes back to his room.

Jaehyun turns around with a shit eating grin on his face and Taeyong laughs.

“You’re blushing,” Jaehyun states.

“I’m embarrassed,” Taeyong replies, trying to salvage his pride.

“You’re flustered,” Jaehyun says, his voice teasing, his hands finding Taeyong’s hips and pulling him close. “Because of me.”

This little shit, Taeyong thinks. All he really needs is one little push and then he falls right into character. Really owns the role.

“Am I?” Taeyong says, leaning into his space, letting his teeth catch Jaehyun’s earlobe. Just a quiet reminder that he’s the hyung, the one with the experience, the one who has tasted and given pleasure so many times before.

He’s enjoying this, this sort of push and pull. They’re about to kiss again when another door opens somewhere and there’s movement in the dorm. Jaehyun groans, resting his forehead against Taeyong’s. The older of the two chuckles, pecks Jaehyun softly on the mouth.

“We’ll pick this up later?” he says.

Jaehyun nods, and they separate just before Taeil and Mark come in.

 

A few days pass, and neither of them makes the first move. And in those few days, Taeyong can’t keep himself from looking at Jaehyun. Small, furtive glances, just to see his beautiful face. It’s scaring him, how instinctive, how compulsive the urge is. There’s a part of him that’s happy, still fighting disbelief, but so happy. And then there’s another part of him that can’t stop thinking, quietly unsettling.

What does it mean if you want to fuck your best friend? What does it mean if you add sexual attraction to a platonic relationship? Isn’t that love, then? A companion, who knows you, who’ll support you no matter what, a home of sorts, if you desire them, doesn’t that mean you love them?

Doesn’t that mean Jaehyun loves him? Loves him back, that is. Because God knows, Taeyong could fight it and hide it and wish it away all he wants, but at the end of the day, he loves Jaehyun. Minjun knew it, too, and if he’s really honest with himself, he knows that’s why their relationship didn’t work out in the first place.

At the end of every day, just before he falls asleep, he thinks about it, and he knows he’s a wreck waiting to happen.  

And the next morning, he’s back to fighting, hiding, wishing.

 

Taeyong won’t be the one to initiate anything, he decides. He’ll wait for Jaehyun to gather up the courage and ask for what he wants. And besides, they don’t really have the time or the privacy or the energy to do anything. And then one evening, when they’re in the van, on the way back from a performance at a music festival, Jaehyun does something.

He sits next to Taeyong, and about twenty minutes into the drive, when Winwin dozes off next to him, he rests one tentative hand on Taeyong’s thigh. Taeyong is half asleep when it happens, but the minute he feels that warm, heavy palm on his body, the downy pull of sleep disappears from his eyes, and he’s wide awake. Through the dull red leather of his pants, through his sticky skin and strung out muscles, he feels the touch like it burns him.

He looks at Jaehyun, and he knows what he wants. He can feel it in his touch, in his gaze, it’s screaming with want. Taeyong reaches out and covers Jaehyun’s hand with his own, squeezing a little, telling him yes, I’ll let you have me tonight. Jaehyun smiles, just a barely there quirk of the corners of his mouth, and he drops his gaze. Taeyong draws his hand back, assuming the moment has ended, but then Jaehyun lets his palm drag upward, over his inner thigh, stopping just short of his crotch.

Taeyong has to fight back a gasp, because Jaehyun, that asshole, squeezes Taeyong’s sensitive flesh and lets his hand rest there for a moment before pulling it back and innocently crossing his arms over his chest. There’s a faint dusting of red climbing the back of Jaehyun’s neck, something like a smirk playing on his lips. Taeyong stares at him, mouth agape, still unable to process the fact that he was just teased by this teenager, and he decides that tonight, he’s going to be the cocktease from hell.

 

He’s in the living room, waiting for his turn to shower. He usually goes in right after Taeil, but tonight he lets everyone go before him, shooting a look at Jaehyun, telling him to wait till the end. One by one, the members go in, emerging a few minutes later, clean and ruddy from the steam. Taeyong waits, slowly losing patience, and he knows Jaehyun is getting impatient too, judging from his restless fidgeting.

By the time Donghyuk leaves the bathroom, Taeyong’s patience is in tatters. He waits till the door to his room closes, leaving the two of them alone in the living room, and then he picks up his towel, grabs Jaehyun by the wrist, and pulls him into the shower with him.

 

They undress in seconds, their sweaty bodies coming together in the middle of the cramped bathroom, and Taeyong tastes the salt of Jaehyun’s skin on his tongue when he mouths at his neck. Jaehyun almost moans, a soft sound slipping from his mouth. Taeyong pulls away.

“We’d better get the water running,” he says, pulling Jaehyun under the shower and turning the knob.

A shower of lukewarm water descends around them, soothing against tired skin, and Taeyong lets himself be kissed senseless for a while before he breaks the kiss and whispers, “We should hurry up.”

Jaehyun nods, but he stands there awkwardly for a second, not knowing what to do.

“Handjob? Blowjob?” Taeyong asks.

Jaehyun looks terribly flustered. “Whatever you want,” he says.

Taeyong laughs quietly. How fucking cute, he thinks, pecking him on the lips, taking him in his hand. He’s heavy, thicker than Minjun, and Taeyong strokes him roughly. Jaehyun moans again, his hands running over Taeyong’s back.

“Hyung,” he whispers. “Should I?”

Taeyong lifts his head from Jaehyun’s shoulder to look at him. Should he what?

But then he feels Jaehyun’s hand slipping from his back, in between their bodies, wrapping tentatively around Taeyong’s arousal. He doesn’t mean to whimper, but it slips from his throat unannounced. He flushes, embarrassed again. Jaehyun has never touched his arousal before. They’ve had sex, yes, but Jaehyun has never put his hands or his mouth on Taeyong’s member, and he doesn’t know if it’s by will or by accident. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that Taeyong wants him to, so bad.

Yes, he thinks, you should, please, _please_.

“If you want to,” he says instead. Considerate, politically correct.

Jaehyun’s fingers tighten around his arousal, and Taeyong has to bite down on Jaehyun’s shoulder to keep himself from making any more embarrassing sounds. Jaehyun gasps, starts stroking him, and whispers “Is this okay? Should I do something different?”

Taeyong’s head is spinning because Jaehyun is pleasuring him, asking him what he wants. He’s not being fucked and tossed aside, Jaehyun cares for his pleasure, and he has dreamt of this moment for so long in painfully vivid detail, but nothing could have come close to this. Nothing could have come close to his wet glistening hair, water streaming down his pale, pale skin, the muscled length of his body.

“This is perfect,” he whispers.

Jaehyun catches his lips in a kiss, and Taeyong can’t stay standing anymore, can barely summon up the presence of mind to keep jerking Jaehyun. He feels Jaehyun’s fingers pressing against his entrance, and his knees just sort of give up, his body trembling, starting to sink. He tries to steady himself by clinging to Jaehyun’s body, but the younger just pushes him against the wall, kisses him hard, strokes him harder, and Taeyong’s arms fall to his sides uselessly. He keens softly into Jaehyun’s mouth, letting his head tip back when he trails kisses down his neck. He’s close, so close, and all it takes is a few harsh tugs and few whispered praises for him to come. It’s all a blur of white and the scent of Jaehyun’s skin and his deep voice in his ears for a few excruciating moments, and then Taeyong comes down gently from his high to find himself in Jaehyun’s arms.

“You’re beautiful, hyung,” he’s whispering, and Taeyong shudders and kisses him.

“Let me take care of you,” Taeyong whispers back, reaching for Jaehyun again. He strokes him, watching his eyes fluttering shut.

“Do you want to come in my mouth again?” he asks.

A dusky red rises in Jaehyun’s cheeks. He nods, breathing hard. Taeyong falls to his knees, takes him in his mouth. He looks up at Jaehyun, he wants him to know just how much he likes the weight and the taste of Jaehyun on his tongue. Jaehyun is looking down at him, his palms flat against the wall to steady him. It doesn’t take long for him to come, barely managing to whisper a warning before releasing hotly onto the older’s tongue. He chokes down a moan, his hands curling into fists against the wall, his eyes struggling to stay open and take in every detail of Taeyong’s face, his open mouth taking his release.

When his muscles finally stop spasming, he reaches down to wipe away the spit and the come that has spilled down Taeyong’s chin, a lazy smile on his face.

“You’re so good, you’re amazing,” he whispers, stroking Taeyong’s face.

Taeyong smiles. He feels like some small animal, like a puppy that Jaehyun owns, and he wraps his arms around the younger’s thighs and nuzzles against his hipbone, dropping soft kisses against his skin, letting Jaehyun pet his hair.

The water has turned cold already, and it begins to dawn on him that they’ve been in the shower for ages, and if anyone has noted their absence, it’s going to look fucking weird.

“We should go,” he whispers.

Jaehyun nods, taking Taeyong’s hand and helping him to his feet. His knees protest, and Taeyong whines.

“Ow, ow knees, ow,” he whispers.

Jaehyun laughs. “You’re getting old,” he says, and earns a light slap from Taeyong.

“You’re good, right?” Taeyong asks after a long moment.

“I’m good,” Jaehyun replies with a reassuring smile.

They wash up quickly, in strangely comfortable silence, and head back to their rooms. In the silent, darkened hallway, Jaehyun stops Taeyong right in front of his door and presses a kiss to his mouth. Taeyong smiles, wondering at his luck, that this is finally happening. He deepens the kiss, one hand in a firm grip on that back of Jaehyun’s neck. Jaehyun sighs, letting Taeyong kiss him breathless. Taeyong breaks the kiss.

“That’s what you taste like,” Taeyong whispers, and Jaehyun groans.

“Fuck you hyung, you’re making me hard again,” he complains.

Taeyong chuckles. “Night hyunnie,” he says, landing a soft kiss on his cheek, something he’s been doing forever, a kind of constant, a reminder that their bond would never change.

“Night hyung,” Jaehyun whispers.

 

In the darkness of his bedroom, just before he falls asleep, Taeyong realizes that he forgot all about being the cocktease from hell. No cocktease, nope, nothing. He was a helpless little puppy doing anything to please Jaehyun.  

Christ, he thinks. I’m so close to wrecked.


	6. Chapter 6

Jaehyun is kind of a fuck, Taeyong comes to realize.

Their interactions are comfortable, just like they used to be, looking out for each other, poking fun at each other. Except sometimes, when they’re together in public and Taeyong feels Jaehyun’s eyes travelling over his body, staring, really. If he dares to look back at him and meet his gaze, he finds himself uncomfortable, hot, breathless, a twisting, turning, fluttering in his stomach. That’s usually when he excuses himself and leaves the room, gets some air, returns only when he’s sure his face isn’t beet red.

Sometimes, when all the members are around, he sits next to Taeyong, presses his leg right up against Taeyong’s, and holds it there for too long to be brushed off as an accident. When they’re walking off stage, or getting into the van, he walks behind Taeyong, one hand claiming Taeyong’s lower back or his hip. It doesn’t look like anything out of the ordinary, just casual boy group skinship. But Taeyong knows Jaehyun better than that.

He knows Jaehyun isn’t the type for casual skinship. He knows that in all their years of training and performing together, most skin to skin contact has been initiated by Taeyong himself, and Jaehyun restricts himself to throwing an arm around Taeyong’s shoulders at most. And he sees the blush in Jaehyun’s cheeks even if nobody else does. He knows that all that touching is not innocent. He’s a cheeky little fuck, he realizes.

Or perhaps he’s overcompensating a little, making up for years of abnegation, this new found acceptance letting him explore things he’d never have dreamed of doing. Perhaps he’s just forcing himself to be comfortable with this, learning how not to feel ashamed.

Taeyong is half amused, half pleased, and either way he’s getting Jaehyun’s hands on his body so he’ll take it.

 

“Are hyungs fighting?” Donghyuk asks hesitantly.

Taeyong’s getting dressed, and Donghyuk is just out of the shower, getting his clothes from the closet.

“Which hyungs?” Taeyong asks distractedly.

“You and Jaehyun hyung,” Donghyuk says.

Taeyong stops buttoning his shirt and turns to look at Donghyuk.

“Me and… what, no,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like you’re mad at him. Like whenever he walks in, you leave the room, and sometimes when he touches you, you push his hand away and… it feels tense?”

Taeyong doesn’t know what to say. He can feel laughter tugging at the corners of his mouth, but Donghyuk sounds so serious, and that’s rare for Donghyuk so it must mean he’s really worried. It’s just too cute. He shouldn’t laugh, definitely not. He’ll save that for when he tells Jaehyun about this.

“Aw, kid, we’re just fucking around,” he says. “I’m not mad at Jaehyun.”

Donghyuk laughs, his signature sheepish laugh.

“Ah, I’m just being stupid then,” he says.

Taeyong grins, makes a mental note to actively make it more normal between him and Jaehyun.

 

Most of the members are in the dorm. All the fucking time. In the dorm and wide awake and all over the place, which means it’s really fucking hard to find enough privacy for enough time to let Jaehyun fuck him. Which of course, means they have to make do with hurried handjobs and deep kisses in the shower.

It’s been a couple of weeks already and Taeyong is almost aching to feel Jaehyun inside him again. He got one little taste, and now he wants it all. Jaehyun wants it too, he can tell, and one afternoon he even whispers it in his ear. Hyung, is there any way we can… he’s too shy finish that sentence, but Taeyong understands.

They even try the couch, late one night, when all the members are asleep and Taeyong finds Jaehyun sitting on the living room couch and watching something on his ipad. He surprises him by kneeling between his legs wordlessly and unzipping his pants. Jaehyun gasps, and the sound echoes dangerously in the dark, empty room. He puts his ipad away without any questions, his hands finding their place in Taeyong hair while Taeyong busies himself with giving him the blowjob of a fucking lifetime in stifled silence.

But that isn’t enough for Jaehyun, no. They’ve been in this strange relationship for weeks now and it’s clear he wants to sink into Taeyong’s body again, but he’s still too shy to ask. So he makes a frustrated little sound and he pulls Taeyong up onto the couch, has him spread out under him, fingers him open with spit-covered digits, while Taeyong bites down hard on a cushion to keep all the sounds down.

He writhes in pleasure, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of fucking on the couch while everyone’s asleep. It’s fucking sexy, but it’s dumb, so dumb, because in one terrifying moment, with Jaehyun buried knuckle deep inside him, they hear the toilet flush, and they freeze like that, staring at each other with wide eyes and hearts pounding.

Taeyong doesn’t know how he has the presence of mind to reach up and pull Jaehyun down on top of him, flush against his body, but he does it just in time. The bathroom door opens and closes, and someone that sounds like Taeil lumbers away down the hallway. They go unseen, hidden from view by the back of the couch.  They don’t move until they hear Taeil’s bedroom door closing.

That’s when Taeyong finds his body shaking with quiet, uncontrollable laughter, and Jaehyun bites back a smile and lifts himself back up to kiss Taeyong. The kiss is awash with adrenaline, relief at their escape, and they’re cocky enough at this point to continue. They don’t fuck, obviously, it’s too risky. But Jaehyun does bring him to completion with his hands before they kiss and kiss and go to bed.

Taeyong still can’t stop laughing the next morning.

 

“How are you?” Taeyong asks one night, when he finds himself alone with Jaehyun.

“I’m fine, thank you?” Jaehyun replies, quirking an eyebrow.

“No, I mean, how are you? Second thoughts? _Bad_ thoughts?” Taeyong explains. Jaehyun has been fine, perfectly normal with him and everyone else, but Taeyong just wants to make sure.

Realization settles in Jaehyun’s eyes. “I… I’m fine, hyung. I still want this.”

“You’re sure?”

Jaehyun nods, smiles, reaches over and kisses Taeyong as if to prove a point. Taeyong smiles into the kiss, pulling him closer and kissing him hotly. It turns from a sweet little peck to something sticky and deep, in a matter of seconds. How typical of them, Taeyong thinks.

Jaehyun’s phone begins to ring but he can’t be bothered to answer because his hands are occupied, sliding under Taeyong’s t shirt, cupping his ribcage, mapping his body, and Taeyong’s hands are fisting in Jaehyun’s messy hair and pulling. The buzzing stops, but only about a minute passes in silence before it begins again.

Taeyong breaks the kiss.

“You want to get that?” he pants.

Jaehyun shakes his head, catches Taeyong’s lips again. They’re melting into the kiss but the phone won’t stop ringing and after the third phone call, Taeyong is just uncomfortable.

“Just see who it is?” he says.

Jaehyun sighs and pulls the phone out of his back pocket.

“It’s just my mom,” he says, tossing the phone aside and leaning back in to kiss Taeyong again.

Taeyong stops him with a firm hand on his chest.

“What if it’s something important?” Taeyong says.

“It’s not,” Jaehyun snaps.

Taeyong is taken aback. Jaehyun doesn’t snap at anyone, and definitely not at him. There’s a tense sort of silence, and Jaehyun looks away and swallows thickly.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s not important.”

Nothing passes between them but the sound of the phone ringing, ringing.

“When was the last time you spoke to her?” Taeyong asks delicately.

Jaehyun won’t meet his eyes.

“Hyunnie?”

“Not since we started… this.”

That’s almost a month.

“Why?” Taeyong asks, and he’s met with silence again. “Jaehyun, why are you avoiding her calls?”

“I can’t, okay? I just had my tongue in your mouth, I can’t fucking talk to her right now. Every time she calls, I have to talk to her knowing that you were jerking me off in shower or that were making out or something maybe an hour before. I…”

“Go on,” Taeyong says, and his voice comes out sounding much smaller than he intended. The phone is ringing again.

“It feels bad, like I’m lying to her and betraying her trust or something. How do I put this - disrespecting her? I don’t know.”

“You want to try telling her?”

“No,” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong hears the finality, the sort of fear that’s laced in his words. “I… no.”

“Okay, forget I asked,” he says, fingers smoothing Jaehyun’s hair, silently apologizing. “Just answer the phone, tell her…”

Jaehyun is shaking his head, pulling away from him before he can even finish his sentence.

“Jaehyun, listen to me, just tell her you’re okay. She’s probably really worried.”

“I can’t talk to her.”

“She’s your mother.”

Jaehyun scoffs.

“Listen,” Taeyong says soothingly. “The longer you avoid her, the more she’s going to call you. She’s just worried. Just tell her you’re fine, and she’ll leave you alone.”

“Hyung,” Jaehyun says.

 “It’s just a phone call. You’re not doing anything wrong, you don’t have to feel like this.”

Jaehyun hesitates.

“I’m right here,” Taeyong says again. “Just answer the phone.”

“Fuck…” Jaehyun breathes. “Fuck it.”

He picks his phone back up, swipes angrily at the screen. “Hello?”

Taeyong can only hear his side of the conversation, and a faint female voice, agitated, but he can’t really make out what she’s saying.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been busy. Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. Listen, I can’t talk for long, I have to go. I’m sorry, I have to work. Yeah, love you too, bye.”

He hangs up.

Taeyong reaches out to stroke Jaehyun’s cheeks, but the moment his fingertips touch the younger’s skin, he’s turning away, twisting away from his touch, and that’s more hurtful than Taeyong wants to admit.

Taeyong pulls his hand back, waits for Jaehyun to say something.

Jaehyun presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Fuck,” he says again. “Happy?”

“What?” Taeyong says dumbly.

“I lied to her. For you. Isn’t that what you wanted to see?”

“What are you…”

Taeyong stares at him, appalled that he could even think that. That’s not what he meant to do. That’s not it.

“Hyung, I think I’m going to go outside for a little bit,” he says, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“Okay,” Taeyong says. He’s too hurt to say anything else.

We’re fighting after all, he thinks.

 

 

Taeyong sits on the living room couch, staring off into the distance. He’s been there for hours, waiting for Jaehyun to return, and he’s run out of things to keep him occupied. He’s still swallowing the hurt from everything Jaehyun said.

He doesn’t know what to make of it, that strange distortion of his intentions. He never meant it like that. He just wanted Jaehyun to be on talking terms with his parents, for Jaehyun’s sake, really. He can’t believe that Jaehyun would think anything else. He can’t believe that Jaehyun doesn’t know him better than that.

Perhaps this is unhealthy, he thinks. A terrible fucking idea, maybe the younger regrets everything, maybe he hates him for inadvertently ruining his relationship with his parents, and that pointless fucking fight was just how his frustration manifested.

Perhaps he never needed to be liberated, to discover his sexuality. Perhaps Jaehyun was better off without him.

It’s late, really fucking late. Past 1 am now, and he’s more worried than hurt at this point, so his first reaction when he hears the front door opening is just relief that Jaehyun is back in one piece. But then he takes one look at Jaehyun’s tired face, and there’s remorse hiding behind the tight lipped smile he sends Taeyong’s way, and suddenly he remembers why he spent hours sitting there, waiting in the half dark.

“Can we talk?” he says.

Jaehyun nods. He kneels at Taeyong’s feet, rests his head on Taeyong’s knee.

“What was that all about?” Taeyong asks.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jaehyun replies.

“That’s not really an answer.”

Jaehyun stays quiet. Maybe Taeyong should begin.

“Okay, then I’ll talk,” he says. “Look, this is for life, okay? I don’t mean you and me, no, but you’re gay, Jaehyun. That’s not going change whatever the fuck you do. Are you going to avoid your parents for the rest of your life? I know you, I know you’re not okay with that, and I just wanted you to be able to talk to your mother, without any guilt or fear, because she’s your family…”

“I know,” Jaehyun says, burying his face in Taeyong’s lap.

“Because she’s family, and you should be demanding that she accept you the way you are. It had nothing to do with…”

“Hyung, I know…”

“Let me finish,” Taeyong says. He feels like the adult all of a sudden, like he knows how these arguments are supposed to work. God knows he's had his fair share with Minjun.

“It had nothing to do with me," he says. "You don’t owe me shit, Jaehyun. I don’t want you to lie to anyone for me, I don’t need you to prove anything to me. Whether you talk to your mother or you don’t, whether you lie to her about this or tell her the truth, do it for you, because this is a decision you made for yourself. If you don’t want this, if you feel like I forced it on you, we don’t have to do this. But make up your mind. That’s all I have to say.”

Jaehyun lifts his head, and he looks miserable, a thin film of tears in his eyes.

“I know what you meant to do. I know you, I know that. And I’m sorry I said all those things. I was just angry, and I was lashing out. I just… hate the sound of her voice,” Jaehyun says. “All of a sudden, I hate everything about her. And she still has so much control over me, because every time I hear her speak, all the progress I’ve made goes to shit, and I hate that too. God, she’s a terrible fucking person.”

Jaehyun takes Taeyong’s hand in his, presses it against his cheek, an apology for the touch he was denied hours ago. “I’m in this, you and me, I’m in. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want it. I really do, I just have these moments when my entire past catches up to me at once, and I just doubt everything… but I’ll work on it. I won’t do that to you again. I’m so sorry, hyung,” he says.

There’s the apology, there’s the explanation. Taeyong’s hurt is melting away in a heartbeat.

“So much for being fine,” Taeyong says softly. Jaehyun cracks a smile.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard to talk to her.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, you’re right, I can’t avoid her forever.”

They look at each other in silence, for one long, long moment. “Are we okay, hyung?” Jaehyun asks.

Taeyong smiles, he’s still melting.

 “We’re always okay, dumbass,” he says, leaning down, kissing Jaehyun’s cheek.

Jaehyun doesn’t let him pull away. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, his heart in his throat. Forgiveness given as soon as he lets Jaehyun kiss him, lets him close the gap all by himself, lets him lead the kiss all by himself. Taeyong just follows along, tongue for tongue, teeth for teeth. He won’t be accused of pushing a single damned thing on Jaehyun, he decides. Let him take responsibility for this.

He tastes like mint, Taeyong realizes, when Jaehyun’s tongue slides against his. And with a twist in his gut he also realizes that somewhere underneath it all, he tastes like hard liquor.

Jaehyun breaks the kiss, so he can breathe a little.

“You’ve been drinking,” Taeyong remarks.

Jaehyun swallows, nods. “Just a little. I needed something to just… sort of…”

“Next time you need something like that, try talking to me instead?” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun smiles, slow and pretty. “Yeah, that’s probably a better idea.”

It's that smile that seals the forgiveness. And he realizes with a strange sort of uneasiness, that he's so far gone, he'd forgive Jaehyun for anything.

 

They’re still walking on eggshells around each other for a couple of days after that. Taeyong waits quietly for Jaehyun. At first it seems hopeless, because Jaehyun doesn’t really touch him at all, all that teasing and cheeky touching just stops, and Taeyong is left floating in the vacuum.

But then, completely unannounced, Jaehyun breaks the tension. He holds him by the wrist when no one is looking and whispers in his ear. It’s just after a performance, when they’re all being herded past other groups waiting to perform, in the narrow hallways and noise backstage, that’s when he chooses to say it.

“I want you tonight.”

It almost goes unnoticed, almost blends into the background noise, but Taeyong knows what he said just by the way his eyes travel over Taeyong’s face, the way his hand rests snug around his wrist.

He nods, fights back a traitorous blush.

 

Back in the dorm, it’s the usual routine. Wait, wait, wait for your turn in the shower. Except this time, it’s unbearably torturous, because this is make up sex, this is too long since the last time sex, this is going to be really, really good sex.

When they’re finally locked in the bathroom together, it’s a mess. The water’s running, and their hands are everywhere, giving pleasure in every way they know how. There’s a minor hiccup when they realize they don’t have any lube, and Jaehyun’s gaze slides suggestively over to the assorted shower gels and shampoos on the rack, but Taeyong just shakes his head and whispers a decisive hell no, that stuff stings.

They settle on using spit, and when three of Jaehyun’s thick, long fingers are sliding into his body, Taeyong finds himself regretting the no clutter in the bathroom rule. Some lovely, fancy, water based lotion would be really fucking appreciated at this point, he thinks.

His palms are flat against the wall, bracing his body against the weight of Jaehyun pushing in. He’s standing there, legs apart, his hips in a death grip, and despite the copious amounts of warm, sticky spit, Jaehyun has coated himself with, the slide isn’t slick enough. It hurts a little, just enough to make it fucking good. Jaehyun moves, slow, steady and he’s getting so good at this, he realizes.

The first two times, he was still a little awkward, a little too inexperienced for him to handle everything by himself. Taeyong had to lead him gently back then, tell him what he wanted, but now it’s like he’s learning Taeyong’s body, which buttons to push to what effect. Right now, he’s pushing all the buttons to make him scream, but he can’t, he can’t, so he bites down hard on his lower lip and he swallows down his moans, and lets him fuck him hard, jerk him hard, his legs trembling, threatening to give.

Jaehyun can’t jerk him anymore, because he’s too distracted by his own release, and because Taeyong is sinking to the floor and he needs to wrap two strong arms around his torso and hold him up and fuck him senseless. He comes inside him, after a few erratic thrusts, his arms tightening around Taeyong and holding his body close like some kind of ragdoll, tucking his chin into Taeyong’s shoulder and staying that way for a few moments.

And then Taeyong whines, don’t forget about me, and Jaehyun eases out, turns him around, pushes him against the wall. Jaehyun stares at him for a few moments. He knows what he must look like right now, lips bitten raw, eyes half lidded, flushed skin. He knows it always drives them crazy. One tired hand takes Taeyong, strokes him, while another reaches up to grip Taeyong’s face and swallow all his moans.

“Hyunnie,” Taeyong breathes. “Please, your hand, I want it…”

Around my throat. Closing around my throat.

Jaehyun looks at him, somewhat pensive, somehow incongruous with the darkness in his eyes and the pleasure he’s bringing with his hands. He shakes his head, and Taeyong wants to protest but he’s too fucking dazed to argue. It doesn’t take much longer, anyway, two, three tugs and he’s done. His eyes closed, filled with pleasure.

He’s being held, he realizes, Jaehyun is whispering in his ear.

“Was that okay?” he’s saying.

Taeyong nods against Jaehyun’s bare shoulder. “Perfect,” Taeyong says, one blissful smile spreading from his eyes to his lips, and Jaehyun kisses him deeply.

They’re starting to wash up when Jaehyun sees the blood.

“Hyung,” he whispers, and there’s concern in his voice. “Fuck, you’re bleeding.”

“What? Oh, yeah, that’s okay,” Taeyong says. Of course he’s bleeding, they fucked so hard and there was nothing but spit to use for lube. “It happens sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?” Jaehyun whispers, soft, apologetic hands sliding over Taeyong’s sides.

Taeyong smiles. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s cool, I… like it. When it hurts.”

Jaehyun is frowning at him, and he’s thinking, he’s thinking. “Is that why you want me to, uh,” he pauses, as if uncomfortable saying the words. “To choke you?”

Taeyong nods. He hopes to god he isn’t scaring Jaehyun off. But then again he should probably have throught of that before he went and asked this barely twenty year old to choke him for sexual pleasure. Ass backwards, Taeyong, he thinks. Why do you do this.

“Why didn’t you do it?” he asks softly. “Last time, too, you didn’t really do it, you just sort of…”

“It could kill you, you know that right? Even if I let go in time, there’s some weird medical stuff that I don’t really remember , but you could just drop dead without warning and that’s not… that’s really fucked up.”

Taeyong looks at him with an amused sort of smile. “Sounds like you did your homework,” he says.

“I – fuck off hyung, I was scared. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You’d never hurt me. Not like that.”

“I did, though, didn’t I? I mean, you’re bleeding, god it must have hurt so bad.”

Taeyong shakes his head, and he can’t wipe he smile off his face. Jaehyun is being too fucking sweet for his heart to handle. He cups his face, kisses him all sticky sweet and Christ, he can’t take this anymore.

“You know why I like it so much?” he says. “Because if I say stop, the pain will stop. Because it’s you, and I trust you, and I know you’d never hurt me. Because with you, I feel like I have control, too… I don’t know if you understand, you probably don’t. Just, don’t worry about it, okay? I’m fine.”

Jaehyun nods, slowly, like he’s still trying to wrap his head around that. “Okay,” he says. “No more choking, though.”

Taeyong laughs. “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he says.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s a beautiful three weeks. Beautiful, because Taeyong is getting everything he ever wanted from Jaehyun, and he feels like he’s giving Jaehyun everything he ever wanted. Supporting him in every way, satisfying his every need. The awkwardness slips away, the strangeness of this new relationship wearing down into routine. The moments they spend sating each other’s desires, at the end of long, tiring days, working the day’s damage out of each other’s bodies and souls, it’s a kind of fix. A head rush, a high, a habit they soon won’t be able to quit.

Taeyong never asks Jaehyun for sex. It only happens when Jaehyun asks for it. He always waits, for Jaehyun to give in to his want, for Jaehyun to take responsibility for his desire. They don’t fight again, not like that night. That’s not to say jaehyun doesn’t second guess himself. He does, more than once, because that kind of self hate doesn’t go anywhere just because someone tells you it’s okay to be that way. Taeyong knows that, and he’s willing to stay the course. The only reason they don’t fight, is that he has learnt to anticipate Jaehyun’s moods, his moments of self-doubt and weakness, and he has learnt to give him what he needs. Space and quiet support.

Their relationship seems strong, stronger than before their silly argument. So much stronger than just a few months ago, when they were nothing but friends. They’re figuring each other out, in new light, new sides to their personalities they would never have discovered as friends.

It begins to change, slowly, tentatively. Jaehyun really begins to own their relationship, to push his own boundaries. One evening in an empty dorm, when Jaehyun is buried inside him and fucking him excruciatingly slow, and Taeyong is twisting under him, begging for more, Jaehyun does something. One unsure palm coming down somewhat hard on the underside of Taeyong’s thigh. A gasp and a shocked silence later, he’s begging again, saying harder, baby, please, and Jaehyun gives him exactly what he wants, over and over.

It takes Taeyong a whole day to come to terms with the fact that Jaehyun _spanked him_. That they were in bed together, and Jaehyun voluntarily spanked him without Taeyong urging him to. It’s something he’d never have imagined, not in a thousand daydreams. It’s so funny how different they are with each other behind closed doors, how it mocks their public face of hyung – dongsaeng, of colleagues, of best friends.

It evolves slowly, to something more twisted, something between reward and punishment. He’s made to lie face down in bed sometimes, hands fisting in the sheets, counting out loud as Jaehyun degrades him, makes it hurt just the way he wants it.

Jaehyun kisses him sometimes, out of the blue, kisses him hard till he’s breathless, in the middle of the living room when anyone can walk in on them, and when Taeyong begins to get nervous and push him away because there are people in the next fucking room, he kisses him some more. Taeyong comes to realize that he does it just to see him flustered, embarrassed, all red in the face, and then he drops little butterfly kisses all over his flushed cheeks, laughing at his embarrassment. Taeyong could kick him for it, and he does one day, right in the shin, and leaves Jaehyun laughing and groaning on the kitchen floor. But really, Taeyong is happy, so happy that Jaehyun is getting bolder, less ashamed of their relationship.

He’s tied up once, with Jaehyun’s belt around his wrists. It’s terribly awkward, Jaehyun’s trembling hands twisting the leather around Taeyong’s skinny wrists, and they laugh at their own nervousness and kiss to calm themselves down. It isn’t long before the awkwardness slips away and a mad sort of desire takes its place, and it’s so fucking sexy, not being able to move, to touch himself, to touch Jaehyun, just watching Jaehyun destroy his body. But they learn that it leaves marks, and next time they use Jaehyun’s discarded t shirt instead.

It’s all okay. It’s beautiful because he trusts him, trusts him and loves him, so much. It’s okay, because every morning, he’s there with his bright smile and his all-pervasive laughter, his black hair and his porcelain skin, and he’s all the magic of the stars and the sun. His best friend, his everything. It’s twisted, twisted, their relationship has turned on its head, but it’s all okay because it’s Jaehyun.

Sometimes, Taeyong lets himself believe that Jaehyun is more present now, when they have sex. Like when he lets his mouth map Taeyong’s body, when he takes his time sucking marks into stretches of skin too private for anyone to see, when his tongue laps at Taeyong’s nipples and his teeth tease them hard and it’s too intimate, he’s paying too much attention to the body stretched out beneath him. It doesn’t fit with the rest of what they do, delivering their own twisted brand of pleasure. Sometimes Taeyong lets himself believe Jaehyun is falling in love with him.

It’s a beautiful three weeks before it all starts falling apart.

 

Taeyong’s phone is ringing. He wants to ignore it and stay in bed but the jarring ringtone is unrelenting. He groans, gets out of bed and picks it up off the table. Strange, he thinks, when he sees his mother’s name on the screen. He swipes at the screen, wondering what possessed her to be calling him at 5 am on a Sunday morning.

“Mom?” he says, slightly disgruntled by the early morning disturbance.

“Taeyong, listen, something’s happened,” she says, and she sounds terribly disturbed. That scares him, because his mother isn’t the type to be shaken up easily.

“What?” he says, suddenly wide awake.

“Your uncle, honey I’m sorry,” she says, and she sounds like she’s choking up.

“Mom, what happened?”

“Sangsoon, he met with an accident last night, and he just passed away,” she says.

There’s a sort of ringing in Taeyong’s ears, and he hears the words, but they won’t really sink in, they don’t really mean much to him. Sangsoon, his paternal uncle. The man whose home he spent his 14th summer in. The man whose face was ingrained in his memory, the lines around his eyes, the kindness of his smile, big, rough palms.

Ah, he’s dead, he thinks with a strange abstraction. Dead, gone, finished.

“Taeyong-ah?”

He should probably say something.

“Is dad okay?” he asks. What a stupid question, he realizes. His brother is dead, of course he’s not okay.

“He’s holding up,” she replies. “We’re still at the hospital.”

His stomach is turning, his mouth dry and his head too heavy.

“Give me the address,” he hears himself saying. “I’ll come right now.”

Dead, gone, finished.

 

He finds his mother in the hospital lobby. His father is taking care of paperwork. Taeyong doesn’t know what to feel. He wants to feel bad for his father’s sake, but his insides are strangely, almost deliberately empty. He hugs his mother, sits her down and brings her food and coffee and takes care of her, and she’s grateful, he can see that.

Like a good, dutiful son, he looks for his father, to see if he can help him with the paperwork and funeral arrangements. He calls his manager, tells him he can’t be there and he almost laughs at the words he chooses. Someone close has passed away, he says. I need to be here.

Someone close.

It’s scaring him a little, how incredibly natural this is for him, how practiced and mechanical the motions are, almost as if he’s been preparing for this moment for years. The death of his uncle.

He wishes his sister were here.

 

His phone is ringing. It’s Jaehyun. He can’t answer. If he does, he’ll fall into a graceless heap right here on the floor and cry, and he can’t afford to do that right now.

There’s a text now. “Hyung are you okay?”

He doesn’t reply.

 

There are things to do, so many things to take care of, a funeral home to contact, a service to plan, people to be notified, bank accounts and mortgage payments and property to be managed. It feels sick, handling a dead man’s things, wrapping up the loose ends of what used to be his life. His father is being brave, his mother apologetic, and his sister is still resolutely not there.

Taeyong hasn’t seen the body. He doesn’t think he can handle that. He hasn’t been in the same room with that man for years, and dead or alive, he doesn’t think he can handle it.

Where the hell is his sister?

 

His phone is ringing again. It’s his sister this time. He doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“Where are you?” he says, and he doesn’t expect his voice to break, he’s been so calm all day, but there it is, testament to everything he’s been trying to hide.

“Taeyongie, I’m so sorry, I’ve been trying everything but there were no god damned flights. I’m so fucking sorry, Taeyong, are you okay?” her voice rings out, worried, miserable.

He wants to say he’s fine, but that would be a lie. “I need you here,” he chokes out instead.

“Oh God,” she says. “Baby, just go home, okay? Just go back to work, pretend like you don’t know. I’m coming, I’ll take care of mum and dad.”

“I can’t do that to dad,” he replies. “Noona, please just… I’m waiting, please come soon.”

“I’m coming. I’ll be there by tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says.

“Why don’t you go home?” she says. “Don’t put yourself through this.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll stay,” he says.

His beloved father. He’d never forgive him if he left, and God knows that man has forgiven Taeyong more times than he should have.

 

The body is shifted to the funeral home. They’ve decided to have the funeral service the next morning.

Taeyong wants to see Jaehyun. He finds himself clinging to the image of Jaehyun’s face with the desperation of a drowning man. His eyes, his smile, his hands. That’s all he wants in his head. He doesn’t want to think of those big, rough palms, but the longer he spends in such close proximity to his family, to all the near relatives who knew his uncle, the safe distance he put between him and his past begins to crumble, and he spirals haplessly into old, old memories.

The screaming, the midnight arguments between his parents, echoing in his room despite closed doors and blaring music. His sister was lucky, she was in college, and she missed the worst of it. But there he was, skipping class, being an asshole delinquent despite his best intentions. He knows now that he was just acting out to get his parents’ attention, but back then he thought that was all he could be. Being dropped off at his uncle’s house on the first day of summer holidays because his parents were trying to figure out their marriage and they couldn’t handle a raging teenager at that time in their lives.

Christ. He doesn’t want to remember. Jaehyun, he says in his mind. Just think about Jaehyun.

The service is long. His suit is too big for him, something rented from the funeral home. Big and black and scratchy, and he hates it. It’s too hot, too suffocating sitting there by a framed photograph of his uncle while strangers heap praises upon the dead man. He nods and smiles, bows respectfully. He just wants to see Jaehyun.

 

His sister arrives by late evening. He can’t put into words the relief that washes over him when he sees her familiar long legged stride. When he hugs her, he realizes he’s being held, not the one holding her. It’s a welcome change.

She pets his hair, apologizes for leaving him alone there, and she means it. He wants to cry but he doesn’t.

 

It’s when they go in for the second ceremony, the preparation of the body, that Taeyong breaks. When he sees his uncle’s body, the first time he’s laid eyes on that face since that summer so many years ago, his stomach turns violently.

It’s stiff and pallid and the man that held so much power over Taeyong is reduced to nothing, just skin stretched taut and sickly over bone. He doesn’t know how that makes him feel. He needs to vomit, he realizes. He can’t be in this room anymore because the walls are suddenly too close and he’s thinking of big, rough palms and he can’t, he can’t. He leaves the room quietly.

He rushes into the nearest bathroom, retching violently. There isn’t much in his stomach to begin with, but whatever little he had managed to eat is now gone. There’s no relief. He washes up methodically, vacant, glassy eyed.

There’s a small hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. He looks up.

“Noona,” he breathes.

“Go home,” she says. “I’ll come up with something to tell dad.”

He nods. He tried to be brave for his father, but he can’t go back in there.

 

He moves like a ghost through the dorm. Taeil greets him from somewhere in the living room, but he doesn’t look. He heads straight for his room, crumples into his bed. Lying curled up on his side in his bed, far away from all the people from his childhood, and he’s still spiraling, he realizes with a resigned terror.

 His uncle. He had never married, and he lived alone in a starkly tidy apartment in a shabby part of Seoul, somewhere on the outskirts. Taeyong remembers the violence with which he hated his parents for leaving him there, his childish anger misdirected towards his uncle in those early days of summer. But that had changed, alright.

Over two weeks of a persistently kind smile and a no bullshit attitude, Taeyong remembers growing to like him. To cherish the quiet of his tiny room in the evenings, no screaming, just a civilized dinner, perhaps watch some tv, then go to bed. His anger dissipating into a quiet respect for the older man, a desire for his company, vying for his approval in everything that he did because fuck, somebody was finally paying attention to him. That was the routine, he remembers.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there when there’s a soft knock, and his door opens just enough for Jaehyun’s head to poke through.

“Hyung,” he says softly. “I thought you weren’t back yet, but Taeil hyung told me you got back hours ago.”

Ah. Hours.

Jaehyun is walking towards him through the dark room.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says.

He sits on Taeyong’s bed, reaches out to stroke his cheek gently. Taeyong lets his eyes flutter closed.

“Have you eaten anything?” Jaehyun asks.

Taeyong shakes his head. Jaehyun gently pushes the hair out of Taeyong’s face.

“Should I get you something?”

He shakes his head again.

“Can I lie down with you?” he whispers.

Taeyong nods. Jaehyun smiles and squeezes into Taeyong’s bed. He wraps his arms around Taeyong. A moment passes, with Jaehyun running his palm over Taeyong’s back.

“Who was it?” he asks hesitantly.

He needs to say something.

“My uncle,” he says.

“Were you very close?”

He shakes his head. Big rough palms on his skin, closing around his throat

“He was a fucking cunt,” Taeyong says evenly, but with a venom in his voice he didn’t know he could possess. 

Jaehyun looks taken aback. His mouth opens and closes around words that aren’t spoken.

“What…” he struggles. “Why do you say that?”

“He – how do I even say this?” Taeyong laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

“He hurt me,” he says, and his throat closes around the words and he chokes a little, a sob sticking in his throat and turning it raw. “He…” Taeyong doesn’t mean to, but he starts to cry.

“Hyung, Jesus,” Jaehyun breathes, his fingers carding through the other’s hair, trying to calm him.

“I hate him so much Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong says between deep, shivering breaths. “I hate him, I hate him.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

“I hate him so much Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong says between deep, shivering breaths. “I hate him, I hate him.”

“He’s gone now,” Jaehyun says. “Hyung, what’s happening? Don’t cry, please.”

Taeyong takes another shuddering breath.

“Don’t cry, hyung,” he whispers.

“Hyunnie,” he sobs into Jaehyun’s shoulder. He lets Jaehyun hold his trembling body, kiss his forehead, his eyelids, his tears, too. “Hyunnie, I don’t want to think about him. I feel like I can’t stand up, I can’t breathe,” he chokes out.

He’s still cooing softly at him, still holding him, still kissing him gently. “Hyung, Taeyong hyung, Taeyongie, I’m here now. It’s just you and me, he’s gone. Don’t think about him, look at me,” he says. “Look at me, it’s just you and me.”

Taeyong doesn’t know how many times he says that, but every iteration calms him a little. Just you and me. Jung Jaehyun, Lee Taeyong. Best friends, fuck buddies, a perfect fit. Just us, just us.

His breaths even out, his tears dry against his skin, and he lets himself lie there in Jaehyun’s arms and forget everything. He feels so safe in those arms, warm with those hands on his skin. Big, smooth palms ghosting over his skin, calming. His kind, dimpled smile. That’s all he knows.

Taeyong pulls back from Jaehyun’s shoulder, looks up at him, lets him kiss the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.

“Breathe,” Jaehyun says.

“Thank you,” Taeyong replies.

“Tell me what just happened,” Jaehyun says softly.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Or think about it. It’s over.”

The cry is over, he’s run out of tears now. But it’s not over, he knows that. His own personal flood has washed over him, and he’ll have to spend weeks picking up the pieces, building his life back up again. It’s the same every time this happens, something tips him over the edge, and all the years he has spent learning how to be happy, all that work is undone.

Jaehyun strokes his cheekbone, his skin is sticky with dried tears.

“Okay,” Jaehyun says. “But you’re okay, right?”

Taeyong shakes his head.

“What can I do? How do I help you?”

Taeyong shakes his head again. He’s done more than Taeyong could ever ask for.

“Please, hyung,” Jaehyun says, nosing at his cheek. “I don’t want you to hurt.”

“I need a shower,” Taeyong says. He needs to wash this feeling off his skin, this dirty, tainted, soiled feeling off.

“Okay,” Jaehyun says, rolling out of Taeyong’s bed, standing up. “That might help,” he says, and holds out his hand for Taeyong to take.

Taeyong doesn’t move. He can’t move. His body feels like lead.

“I can’t stand up,” he says, his voice small.

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong sees the way his confusion gives way to something nearing horror, as he watches Taeyong lying there, small, broken, willing himself to move. His arms are around Taeyong in seconds, gently pulling him up, onto his feet, into one tight embrace. Taeyong slumps against him, and Jaehyun’s strong, strong arms hold him up, his body taking Taeyong’s weight.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun breathes. “What the hell is happening? Please, I… are you going to be okay?”

Taeyong nods. “It’ll pass,” he says.

Jaehyun holds him, quietly, and Taeyong knows he must feel so helpless, knows he’s crying because he feels the wetness against the side of his neck. As the minutes tick by, it’s like Jaehyun is feeling all his pain for him, because he feels lighter. He feels like he can put one foot in front of the other and trust them to carry his weight. He shifts in Jaehyun’s arms. Jaehyun releases his hold, slowly, when he’s sure Taeyong can stand by himself.

“Did I scare you?” Taeyong asks, a soothing hand on Jaehyun’s cheek.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

 

He’s showered now, meticulously cleaned. He’s dressed, in Jaehyun’s t shirt and his own shorts, because Jaehyun’s shorts slip right off his hips. It feels so good to be buried in his scent like that. Jaehyun meets him outside his room with a bowl full of food, and Taeyong shakes his head. He doesn’t trust his stomach to keep food down.

“Pfft, this is my dinner, I’m eating it,” Jaehyun says. “Just sit with me. You want to watch a movie? My neighbor Totoro? I promise I won’t fall asleep this time.”

Taeyong smiles, his first proper smile in 48 hours. He nods.

They’re bundled up together on the living room couch, the lights turned down, the soothing colors and slow pace of life in Ghibli movies, the smell of Jaehyun’s skin, the warmth of his body, everything comes together to save Taeyong from himself. Slow him down, wrap him up, keep him safe.

Jaehyun eats a few bites of the kimchi fried rice, and then he holds a spoonful out to Taeyong. Taeyong’s eyes are fixed vacantly on the tiny screen, and he turns his head somewhat automatically, and he doesn’t even realize when his mouth opens and he takes a bite. He doesn’t know how much he eats like that before he realizes what Jaehyun is doing.

He looks over at him, he’s absently poking at the remnants of bokumbap in the bowl with his spoon, seemingly lost in the narrow streets and sunny afternoons of the movie. He feels Taeyong’s gaze on him, he turns to look. A smile settles softly in Taeyong’s eyes, and all his affection, all his gratitude comes bubbling to the surface. This is the boy he loves, and this is why he loves him. Moments like these when the world is destroying him, taking him apart quietly, Jaehyun is there to put him back together, read him a bedtime story, watch a silly movie, feed him and tuck him into bed and just take care of him. He reminds him that life can be good, life can be fun, and he’ll never be lonely because Jaehyun is here.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Taeyong says softly.

“Hyung, shut up. So awkward,” Jaehyun grumbles, but he still lets Taeyong climb into his lap and throw his arms around his neck and press kisses to his cheeks. He still holds Taeyong by the waist and hides his face in the crook of Taeyong’s neck and says “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Taeyong smiles. “Thank you, Hyunnie,” he says.

Jaehyun just holds him tighter. “Seriously, shut up. You’ve been here for me, all this time, I’ve been struggling and you’ve waited and let me think and I haven’t really been fair to you, but you still waited. And I… it’s my turn to take care of you, hyung,” he says, and he’s embarrassed because he doesn’t usually say things like that out loud. “You really scared the shit out of me. I’ve never seen you like that, God, I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

Taeyong laughs. “So awkward,” he says, and kisses Jaehyun all over again.

It’s moments like these that kill him. Moments when the line between best friend and fuck buddy blurs, and it’s all sweet words and sweeter kisses and gentle, loving hands. Moments like these, Taeyong believes Jaehyun loves him back.

Moments like these, Jaehyun asks himself if he’s ready to think about what it means to care for someone so deeply, to get jealous of their exes, to want to hold them and make their pain go away, to want to feel them from the inside.

 

That night, Jaehyun sleeps in Donghyuk’s bed. In a hushed conversation after Taeyong falls asleep, he tells the maknae that Taeyong isn’t feeling too well, and he just wants to keep an eye on him, in case he needs anything. Donghyuk just nods in understanding and says “I saw you holding him, when he couldn’t get out of bed. It looked bad hyung.”

“He’ll be fine, I think. Just needs some rest,” Jaehyun says.

“His uncle passed away?”

Jaehyun nods.

“He must be really sad,” Donghyuk says. “I mean he cries over everything but he never gets like that.”

Wait, he saw him struggling to stand, he heard him crying, how much does he know, exactly?

Jaehyun’s confusion must have shown on his face, because Donghyuk smiles sheepishly.

“I was at the door. I wanted to come in and get my earphones but then I heard hyung crying and I was like what the fuuuuck…”

“Maknae, language.”

“Sorry, I mean I got scared. But then I figured if _you’re_ with him… I mean it’s not like I can help him better than you can. So I just kind of stuck around outside in case you needed help with anything.”

“Thanks, Donghyuk,” he says, but the way he said that, if _you’re_ with him, it sticks a little uneasily in his chest.

“I’m glad you guys aren’t fighting anymore.”

Jaehyun draws a blank. “What?”

“Past couple of weeks. You guys were fighting, right?” Donghyuk says. “You were acting so weird with each other, and I asked Taeyong hyung about it and he said it was nothing. But then there was this one night when he sat there for hours waiting for you to come back and he looked so upset. He said it was nothing but it was so obvious.”

Jaehyun’s mouth opens but he really doesn’t know what to say here. “Yeah,” he says. “I was being an ass.”

“Yeah I mean, after that night I thought maybe you sorted stuff out, but there were still times when he’d try to talk to you and you’d be so cold. And then hyung would get all quiet and avoid everyone. It was really messed up. Everyone noticed.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I mean I don’t know what happened between you guys, because at times you’d be perfectly normal, but at times it seemed like he’d keep trying to get through to you and you’d keep shutting him down, it was so weird for all of us. You were acting like such an assh… I didn’t say anything. Am I in trouble? I didn’t say it.”

“You’re not in trouble. Keep talking.”

Donghyuk doesn’t say anything, probably afraid that he’s overstepped boundaries, said too much already.

Jaehyun decides to speak. “Was he… did he seem very upset? Whenever I acted like an asshole.”

“Well yeah, I mean you’re like the only one he really talks to, so if you don’t talk to him, he’s all alone. I mean we’d love to hang with him, but he gets so awkward around us?”

“God, I was a real selfish prick, huh?”

“Wait why does it feel like all of this is news to you?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “I just didn’t realize it was affecting him. I didn’t think it was so bad.”

“Well it’s a good thing you aren’t being stupid anymore. I don’t think any of us could have taken care of him like you did today. Like the other night, when he was tired out of his mind and he still wanted to do the dishes, none of us could have convinced him to shut up and go to bed, but you did.”

The other night, when they all returned from a torturous schedule. Taeyong found a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and started rolling up his sleeves because the thought of dirty dishes spending a night in the sink is more terrifying for Taeyong than the Texas Chainsaw massacre. Jaehyun remembers seeing the droop of his shoulders, the dark under his eyes, and he remembers stepping into the kitchen with, firm hands on Taeyong shoulders steering him away from the sink and towards his bedroom, and Taeyong protesting, and Jaehyun shushing him with kisses and a decisive “Hyung, you’re too old to be working this hard. Go to bed, I’ll do the damn dishes.”

Donghyuk pauses, like he wants to say something else, but he stops himself.

“Good night, hyung,” he says instead.

“Spit it out,” Jaehyun says.

Donghyuk chews on the inside of his lip, and he looks so adorably stuck that Jaehyun reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Maknae, stop fretting and say it,” he says, wondering what other moments of assholery he had overlooked.

“You guys are good together,” Donghyuk says.

Jaehyun’s lips part, and he’s too shocked to say anything. He isn’t exactly prepared to hear that. Does he know? A rising panic in Jaehyun’s throat, and the realization that he shushed Taeyong with kisses that night. With kisses. If Donghyuk knows about the dishes… does that mean he knows? Or is he reading too much into this?

Donghyuk sees him floundering, and it’s clear to him he’s said something he shouldn’t have said, and he backpedals like his life depends on it.

“As friends… or whatever…” he trails off. He’s never been very good at backpedaling. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Good night, hyung,” he says.

“Right. Good night, kiddo,” Jaehyun says, watching Donghyuk scurrying off into Jaehyun’s room.


	9. Chapter 9

Jaehyun enters Taeyong’s room quietly. He stands by the door for a while, trying to digest everything he’s heard.

You guys are good together. Together. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jaehyun thinks. Is this it, is this where it all ends? Someone finds out, and then someone else, and then the whole fucking world, and his parents, God, what if everyone finds out? He can’t, he can’t allow that, he’ll lose everything, his work, his family, everything. They’ll hate him, they’ll tell him he’s disgusting, isn’t he disgusting? He feels his throat closing up, all the fear and self-hate catching up to him again, he’s losing everything.

Everything, but not Taeyong, he thinks, and it’s a thought that falls from the sky. Not Taeyong, Taeyong will stay, he knows that, and the thought calms him a little. Taeyong will tell him it’s okay, Hyunnie, you’re perfect like this. It’s your life, he’ll say, it’s okay to be like this.

He takes a deep breath, Taeyong’s voice in his mind, some sort of clarity. It is okay, isn’t it, he thinks. It’s my fucking life. Nothing is lost, not yet. Donghyuk hasn’t told anyone. If he does know something, he’s kept it to himself, and he hasn’t been acting differently with Jaehyun. That must count for something, he thinks.

Donghyuk is harmless, he decides. Even if he knows, he’s harmless, too sweet to even know that he could use the information against them. The most he’d have to deal with would be suggestive eyebrow wiggles and the maknae’s sass, that’s about it. But just to be safe, he’ll have a little chat with Donghyuk soon, he decides.

That’s one issue resolved, he notes, that leaves another. His eyes are fixed on Taeyong’ sleeping form, curled up and bundled up in blankets.

Has he been hurting Taeyong all this while, he wonders. And why the fuck didn’t Taeyong say anything? He’s always smiling, never says no to sex, takes whatever Jaehyun does to him and he fucking likes it. Every time Jaehyun has taken all his frustration and buried it in Taeyong’s skin, Taeyong has just taken it happily, even begged for more. Is that what’s been happening? Has he been taking his shit out on Taeyong, and for whatever reason, kindness or patience or understanding, Taeyong has just been taking it?

God, he thinks. What does that say about me? About our friendship?

Nothing, it says nothing, Jaehyun convinces himself. They’re best friends. And yes, perhaps sometimes in these past weeks, he’s been unkind to Taeyong, he knows that, he’s not an idiot. But he also knows Taeyong doesn’t mind. That sends a twinge of guilt through his veins but honestly, if it were hurting Taeyong that much, he’d say so, wouldn’t he? They’re best friends, Taeyong understands, it’s all okay.

He climbs into Donghyuk’s bed, closes his eyes, but he finds himself strangely uneasy. Lying in bed, feeling wretched like he just tore a flower to shreds with great clumsy hands, with some childish ignorance.

 

It’s been a week since that night. Jaehyun feels a strange mix of emotions. On the one hand, he’s happy that Taeyong seems happier, better now. There are still times he catches him spacing out, and he tries to pull him back with a comforting hand on his skin. He always follows it up with a dismissive laugh, saying sorry, I was totally zoning out. But Jaehyun knows in his bones that Taeyong is struggling with something, some terrible memory, something about his uncle, his childhood, something he’s kept hidden from Jaehyun.

It bothers him that he doesn’t know what it is, and he tries thinking about what that man could have done to Taeyong that made him cry like that, that made him hurt like that. Perhaps he used to hit him, he thinks. That might have been it, he thinks. It angers him, it hurts him, he hates that Taeyong’s childhood might have been tainted like that, and it hurts him that Taeyong can’t talk to him about it.

He wants to be there for Taeyong, he knows that. He wants to take care of him, and protect his happiness with everything he has, but he doesn’t know how. That scares him a little. It scares him that he doesn’t know how to help. It scares him just how bad he wants to help. It’s because he’s your best friend, he tells himself. Best friends keep each other safe.

 

Donghyuk sleeps in Jaehyun’s bed again one night, and it’s not even a matter of discussion anymore. A couple of days ago, they shared a terribly awkward twenty minutes during which Jaehyun tried to subtly gauge just how much Donghyuk knows about him and Taeyong, and Donghyuk guessed that it’s probably a sensitive issue and quite tactfully pretended not to know anything, and it was painful because Jaehyun is shit at subtlety, and Donghyuk is shit at pretending. They just succeeded in somehow turning it into a don’t ask, don’t tell situation, and that amazes Jaehyun. For all the panicking and second guessing, the whole thing resolved itself quite simply.

But every now and then, Donghyuk takes a few liberties, like sleeping in Jaehyun’s bed without bothering to ask him first, or leave any apologetic notes, either because he assumes Jaehyun would be quite happy in Taeyong’s room. Jaehyun is okay with that, because he really is quite happy in Taeyong’s room.

Jaehyun knocks on Taeyong’s door, steps in quietly when he hears Taeyong telling him to come in.

“Maknae got your bed again?” Taeyong asks with a smile, all bundled up and cozy under the covers. Jaehyun nods, heading straight for Taeyong’s bed, and Taeyong laughs and lifts the covers, scooting over so Jaehyun can join him. Jaehyun crawls over him instead, caging him with his arms, bending to kiss him. Taeyong kisses him back hesitantly, and Jaehyun almost reels because that feels good, really good, that familiar mouth after twelve whole days of no kissing. Not that Jaehyun has been counting, of course, he just happened to notice.

He deepens the kiss, barely able to hold back his desire for Taeyong’s hands on his body, and Taeyong keens softly when their tongues meet. Taeyong gives him what he wants, hands on Jaehyun’s back, fisting in his shirt, pulling him close. It sends a shiver down Jaehyun’s spine, his impatience compelling him to reach down, down to push Taeyong’s thighs apart, to palm him, stroke him over his clothes. He never realized he could want someone so bad, that he could miss someone’s touch like this. He’s maddeningly aroused.

But even through the arousal clouding his mind, he knows something’s not quite right. Taeyong is losing focus, his kisses shallow, distracted, his body becoming rigid again, and it’s a few short seconds before Taeyong breaks the kiss.

“I… uh. I’m a little tired today,” he says, not meeting Jaehyun’s eyes. “Can we… I’m sorry. Not tonight?”

Jaehyun nods stupidly. “Sure, yeah, that’s cool,” he says.

“Thank you,” Taeyong says, and then he looks up at Jaehyun. Jaehyun looks at him, trying to let it sink in, that Taeyong just said no. “I’m sorry, Hyunnie, I’m just so tired.”

“Hyung, it’s okay. Can’t always be horny, I guess,” Jaehyun says with a smile, rolling off Taeyong, onto his back. He’s just about to get out of bed when Taeyong speaks.

“You can… stay? I mean if you want to…” he says. “If you want to.”

Does he want to? He feels a little rejected, his ego smarting. He knows this should be okay, but he finds himself wondering if Taeyong doesn’t want him the way he wants Taeyong, if he doesn’t miss Jaehyun’s touch. Jaehyun reaches out and pets his hair for a moment. “Sleep, hyung,” he says, moving to leave once again.

“Hyunnie?” Taeyong says. “Stay?”

That makes him feel a little better. The soft vulnerability in Taeyong’s voice, perhaps he has missed him, too. Perhaps he’s just tired. Perhaps he’s thinking again, about something terrible, something he’s kept hidden from Jaehyun all these years. Jaehyun looks at him for a moment, wondering what goes on behind Taeyong’s eyes. He slides in next to him quietly, and Taeyong somehow just fits against him. His head on Jaehyun’s chest, their legs tangled, and Jaehyun’s arms settle naturally around him.

“Thank you,” Taeyong says again. “And I’m sorry.”

“Shut up and go to sleep old man,” Jaehyun says, his fingers tracing mosaics on Taeyong’s back.

“Can I say something? You won’t get creeped out?” Taeyong asks.

Jaehyun nods.

“I like how you smell. It makes me feel safe.”

Safe, Jaehyun thinks, wondering why he would say that. Of all the things to feel, to enjoy feeling, Taeyong likes feeling safe. There’s an uncomfortable twist in Jaehyun’s gut. Taeyong is still stuck, he realizes. He’s still stuck somewhere in the past, far from Jaehyun’s reach, and he can’t keep him safe there. He wraps his arms tighter around Taeyong unconsciously.

“You still won’t tell me what happened,” Jaehyun says.

“It’s not important,” Taeyong says softly, nuzzling against Jaehyun’s neck.

“It is to you, so it is to me,” Jaehyun replies, and it amazes him how easily that fell from his lips. He stops, backpedals. “You’re my friend hyung. I want to help you.”

Taeyong smiles, and Jaehyun can feel it against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything more. Taeyong has ended the conversation. Jaehyun gives up, sighs, kisses the top of Taeyong’s head.

“Alright, sleep,” he says. And then softly, without his permission, his mouth moves of its own accord, and he adds, “I’ll keep you safe.”

Jaehyun lies awake for hours. He knows when Taeyong’s breathing evens out, he knows when his body goes still, and he hopes to God he’s having good dreams. He doesn’t know if he’s more concerned or hurt that Taeyong doesn’t want sex. That he doesn’t want Jaehyun, and he hasn’t wanted him for a couple of weeks now.

 

 

It happens again. They’re in Taeyong’s room and they’re kissing, and Jaehyun is happy because things are going smoothly, and it feels like Taeyong wants him again. He pushes Taeyong gently towards the bed, and he doesn’t resist, familiarly pliant, submissive, and Jaehyun likes it. He missed this. He covers Taeyong’s body with his own, presses him into the mattress, their kisses getting hotter and wetter, and then he feels it happening, Taeyong withdrawing, slowly.

In an uneasy pit in Jaehyun’s stomach, he feels disappointment and rejection running murky and grey.

Jaehyun breaks the kiss. “Still not in the mood?” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jaehyun replies, pecking him softly on the mouth and moving off him.

Taeyong lies there, staring at the ceiling, breathing heavily from the heat of the moments that came before, a vacant look in his eyes. Jaehyun wonders what the hell he’s thinking. He doesn’t know anymore, he never really knew Taeyong like Taeyong knows him, he realizes with a twist of guilt.

Jaehyun decides to join him. He lies down, rests his head on Taeyong’s ribs and throws an arm over his abdomen, tangles their legs together. A few quiet moments pass before Jaehyun feels Taeyong’s hands on him, one on his back, fisting loosely, possessively in his t shirt, and one carding through his hair, and it feels good. It doesn’t do much to clear the murk in his gut, but it still feels good. He thinks perhaps he should just ask, get it over with.

“Hyung?” he says, and Taeyong hums.

“Is it because you’re going through something right now, or is it me?”

Do you still want me, he means.

Taeyong’s hand fists tighter in his t shirt, and he says “It’s me.”

Jaehyun shifts a little so he can look up at Taeyong, and he wants to say then talk to me, if you’re sad tell me why, ask me to make it better, don’t suffer by yourself. Don’t leave me wondering.

But Taeyong continues. “Like I could ever stop wanting you, Jaehyun,” he says, and Jaehyun’s heart flutters.

He wants to hear that again. He opens his mouth, closes it again, but then he really does want to hear it, so he just does it.

“When did it start?” Jaehyun asks. He knows the answer, he knows it’s cruel to ask, but he wants to hear it so bad.

Taeyong doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Jaehyun wonders if he shouldn’t have asked.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask me that before,” Taeyong says. “It must have been pretty strange, that you felt that way, and I found out and just went with it.”

“I don’t know, I was so freaked out, I didn’t really have time to think about it,” Jaehyun says.

Of course he didn’t think about it. He fucking knew all along. He always knew Taeyong was willing. The only thing keeping them from doing this before was Jaehyun himself. Jaehyun and his guilt, Jaehyun and his shame, his fear, his lies, his pretense.

Taeyong hums again. “I suppose if I’m really honest… look I don’t want you to be upset or anything, but I think, right from the start. When you first spoke to me in the practice room, I thought, shit, this boy is really fucking cute.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “Why would I be upset?” he says.

Why would he, really. That’s what he wanted to hear.

“I don’t know… we were just friends back then… I don’t know. You know the first time I really, really wanted to kiss you?”

“Tell me,” Jaehyun says.

“That day when we went to the convenience store after practice? You, me, Hansol, Yuta… I fucked up my finger, remember? I couldn’t do shit, couldn’t get my ramyun open, couldn’t use the chopsticks, and you fed me, and it was the cheesiest fucking… I don’t know, I just really wanted to kiss you that day.”

Jaehyun lies there wordlessly for a long time, his arm unconsciously wrapping tighter around Taeyong’s waist. That’s sweet, he thinks, so sweet. That doesn’t sound like desire. Taeyong isn’t telling him how he came to want Jaehyun. He’s telling him how he fell in love, the closest thing to a confession Taeyong can give him right now. He realizes that’s exactly what he wanted to hear because his heart is hammering, and he’s turning his head a little to press one small kiss to Taeyong’s chest.

“That was so long ago, hyung,” he says. Taeyong laughs dismissively.

“The first time I thought about tapping that, though, that was much later,” Taeyong says with a laugh. “You were so cute back then, such a baby, I couldn’t think of you like that. But then…”

“But then?”

“You went and turned into this, tall, sexy, muscular thing and then I couldn’t help myself, really. It’s your fault, not mine, see?” Taeyong says and Jaehyun laughs.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it?” Jaehyun asks softly. He did, though. He took a chance once, but Jaehyun conveniently forgot about it, pretended to forget, and he hurt Taeyong. Disappointed him, discouraged him.

Taeyong shrugs. “I was sure you didn’t want me back,” he says. Jaehyun knows exactly what he means, that forgotten kiss, never spoken of again. “What about you, Jaehyun? I always wanted to ask, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Jaehyun smiles. How did it start? The first time his he wanted Taeyong, the first time he felt the need to hold him, to kiss him… that was so long ago, he realizes. Way before Taeyong kissed him that night. The first time Taeyong fell asleep in his lap? That’s the earliest he can remember, because he was so pretty, so close, so warm and Jaehyun couldn’t… help himself. It isn’t a pleasant memory, he reflects, he cried that night because he hated himself for thinking that. He hated Taeyong for being so warm, so pretty, so perfect.

He can’t tell him that. Because then Taeyong will know just how long this has been happening. Because then he’ll know he wasted so much time thinking Jaehyun didn’t want him, and it was all because Jaehyun was too much of a coward to tell him the truth.

He’s still a coward, he realizes.

He clearly the remembers the first time he dared to think of Taeyong in a more sexual way. For no fucking reason, in the middle of an unremarkable afternoon in the NCT U era, when they were sitting side by side in the back of the van, an image stuck behind his eyelids. Perhaps it was the cut of Taeyong’s cheekbones, the pretty pink flush of a delicate mouth, the pale hair falling softly into deep brown kohl rimmed eyes, all lit softly by passing cars and streetlights. Perhaps it was the fact that their thighs were pressed together, but that doesn’t make sense, because they had sat like that a thousand times before, but Jaehyun pictured himself kissing Taeyong, and it didn’t stop there.

Perhaps it was the fact that in the middle of his fantasy, Taeyong rested his hand on Jaehyun’s thigh, patting it like he has always done when he’s zoning out, but it sparked something. It rushed down his spine and left him warm and flustered, because in his mind he pictured Taeyong’s hand sliding over his thigh, up to palm him, to press down, and make him gasp.

And that’s what he tells Taeyong, because he’s still a coward. “NCT U, after Mnet, was it Mnet? When the stylists went all out with your eye makeup. You looked so beautiful, your eyes were just so pretty. You put your hand on my thigh and I pictured… things.”

“What things?” Taeyong says, amused.

“Some very dirty things.”

“Like what?” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun doesn’t reply, but Taeyong is having too much fun teasing him at this point. “You told me you fantasized about me,” he says.

Jaehyun lifts his head off Taeyong’s chest and looks up at him, feigning indignance. “I did no such thing,” Jaehyun says.

“You did, Jaehyun,” Taeyong replies. “You fantasized about me, was that the first time?”

Jaehyun just looks at him, and Taeyong keeps teasing him. “What did you think about Hyunnie?” he says. “Come on, tell me.”

“That day?” Jaehyun says hesitantly, settling back down beside Taeyong, turning on his side to face him. “I thought about you jerking me off in the back of the van.”

Taeyong turns to face Jaehyun. “Tell me more,” he says.

“Another time, I thought of you blowing me in the practice room,” he says.

“And?” Taeyong says, and his voice is a little lower, a little softer, not quite teasing anymore.

“I thought about fucking you,” he says, moving closer to Taeyong. “In the kitchen, I wanted you bent right over the counter.”

His voice drops lower, and his hand finds its way to Taeyong’s waist. Taeyong’s breath catches in his throat. "I wanted you in the shower, in my bed, right up against the front door, god, hyung," he says, and Taeyong almost keens.

“I couldn’t picture you naked, though, it never felt right,” he says, squeezing Taeyong’s side. “And then I saw you, that day, the first time we… completely fucking naked, you were so beautiful,” he says. “Nothing I imagined came close, you were just…”

He leans in.

“So beautiful,” he says, and his lips are so close to Taeyong’s, and he sees the pink in the tips of Taeyong’s ears and he sees his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting just slightly, and he closes the gap. Taeyong lets him work his mouth open, lets his hand slide down his side, down the back of his thigh, gripping and pulling. Taeyong hooks his leg over Jaehyun’s hip, lets him kiss him hard. Jaehyun thinks this time he might be okay, they might get somewhere, because Taeyong grinds down on him with Jaehyun’s hand guiding his movements, pushing down on his lower back, urging him to roll his hips, and he moans into his mouth, but just as quickly as it came, it all falls apart.

He breaks the kiss. Opens his eyes, and Jaehyun sees the distrust and the terror in his wide eyes before he adjusts his expression to something nearing normal.

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun says before Taeyong opens his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Taeyong shakes his head, but he can’t seem to find words. Jaehyun smiles at him.

“You didn’t have dinner, right?” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong looks a little surprised. He shakes his head again.

“Come with me, I feel like cooking all of a sudden,” Jaehyun says.

“What?” Taeyong says.

“Come on, I’m hungry. I’ll make dinner, let’s go,” he says, and Taeyong looks at him blankly for a second and then he nods.

 

It’s late evening when he finds Taeyong in the living room, tidying up after everyone. He wants Taeyong’s mood to lift, he wants that playful, sexy Taeyong back, he wants to see him blush and do that little awkward, nervous laugh, he wants him to be happy. He sneaks up quietly behind him to do what he’s been doing for weeks now. He grips his elbow, spins him around and before he knows what’s happening, Jaehyun kisses him hard.

But the moment their lips meet, Taeyong cries out, his face twisting away, his arms coming up in defence, pushing Jaehyun away, shutting him out. Jaehyun is shocked, he’s scared, did he hurt him somehow?

“Hyung?” he manages to say.

Taeyong stops dead, slowly looking up at him, his rigid body slowly relaxing. The fear slips out of his eyes, his lips part, and a soft “I’m sorry,” falls from his mouth.

He looks at Jaehyun with wide, miserable eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he says, letting his hands slide from Jaehyun’s chest to the back of his neck.

“What just happened?” Jaehyun asks softly.

“You just startled me, that’s all,” Taeyong says, but the quiver in his voice makes him far from convincing.

“The truth,” Jaehyun says.

“It’s nothing, really. Sorry, sorry, come here,” Taeyong replies, his arms linking over Jaehyun’s shoulders, and Jaehyun holds him close, uneasy, because Taeyong is trembling.

“Hyung,” he says, when Taeyong’s body starts to relax. “Let’s go out, it’s been a while.”

“What?” Taeyong says, pulling back to look at him.

“You and me. Coffee?” Jaehyun says, pecking him on the nose. “And cake.”

Taeyong cracks a smile, and it feels halfway real. “What about the fuck all diet we’re on?” he says.

Jaehyun shrugs. “No one has to know,” he whispers, and Taeyong laughs.

Jaehyun smiles at him, happy, because Taeyong’s face is lighting up a little, just a little, but it’s something. “I don’t know what’s happening, hyung,” he says. “You don’t want to talk, I get it. I don’t know if I can help you, but I’m glad I can make you laugh.”

Taeyong leans up and kisses him on the cheek, and it’s thank you, and I’m sorry.


	10. Chapter 10

Things are a little awkward, a little forced. Mucking around in the dorm, making dinner and watching movies together is fine, because all the other members are around, somewhere or the other, it’s not just the two of them sitting down to talk and laugh and spend time together. This is a whole other thing, going out, getting coffee together, just the two of them, intended for nobody else. They used to do this, back in their trainee days, but they don’t do it too often anymore. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks somewhere along the way things got too complicated to allow simple pleasures like these.

So when they step into the café with their hoodies pulled up and their masks covering their faces, when they order in awkward silence, when they sit down with their drinks in a secluded booth and pull off their masks and the only thing they manage to exchange is a strained smile, Jaehyun isn’t really surprised. But he wanted to do this to make Taeyong feel better, to distract him from whatever it is that’s pulling him down, so he sucks it up and he starts talking.

It works, slowly, haltingly, but it works. The awkwardness slips away slowly, the tight pull in Taeyong’s shoulders relaxes a little, and the shadows in his eyes quietly recede and a brightness takes its place. He smiles, he laughs at Jaehyun’s jokes, and that makes Jaehyun happy because… that’s how it’s always been. Taeyong always laughs at his jokes, no matter how unfunny they are.

Taeyongs starts talking, and Jaehyun starts listening, because that’s what he wanted, Taeyong to come out of his shell. He likes this. He’s sitting with his hyung and a cup of steaming hot coffee, the weather’s cold, and nobody has recognized them yet. It’s starting to feel like it used to, like it did when they used to hang out together in their trainee days.

Taeyong is smiling at him, telling him about his recent MCing ventures. Well it’s not exactly recent, but they haven’t really had the time to talk to each other for the past couple of months, what with their packed schedules and all their free time being spent in heated moments of hands and mouths and pleasure. There’s a lot to catch up on.

He’s watching Taeyong’s mouth move, the way his eyes lift from his coffee to Jaehyun’s face, and then back down because he’s always had trouble making eye contact. His hands move a lot, Jaehyun notes with a smile, skinny, delicate hands moving in animated gestures around him. It’s always been like that, like he can’t talk without using his hands. He used to make fun of Taeyong for it, telling him hyung, if I tied up your hands, I don’t think you’d manage to get a single sentence out.

He misses moments like these, he realizes. It reminds him that Taeyong really is lovely company. So comfortable to talk to. He misses talking to Taeyong.

But as the hour passes, he realizes that things are a little different. Not exactly like they used to be. And it’s not awkwardness or reservation or anything like that, because all of that disappeared in the first ten mintues. It just feels somehow more intimate than it used to.

Perhaps it’s because he knows Taeyong more intimately now, knows his body from the inside out, so things are more open, more comfortable, and he finds himself doing things he never would have done in their trainee days. Like reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes, to touch his hand softly, briefly, allowing him to do the same. It feels okay, it feels right, so it doesn’t bother him.

Besides, hands brushing fleetingly feels like nothing after all the things he’s done to his hyung.

 

 

One night, Jaehyun wakes up at around 1am to Donghyuk’s hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him, whispering his name. He blinks groggily. “What’s wrong, maknae? What time is it?” he says.

“Past 1 am. Hyung, I’m sorry, but Taeyong hyung is freaking out again, I don’t know what to do,” Donghyuk whispers.

“What happened?” he says, sitting up, wide awake.

“I don’t know, hyung. I just woke up because I heard noises and then I realized he’s crying in his sleep and I didn’t know what to do,” he says. “It’s bad hyung, like that night.”

Jaehyun jumps out of bed. “Donghyuk, stay here, okay? You can sleep in my bed,” he says and he rushes into Taeyong’s room. Sure enough Taeyong is lying there, curled up on his side with his eyes shut tight and tears slipping past his closed eyelids, his hands balled into tight fists in the sheets. It’s worse than anything Jaehyun could have imagined.

Jaehyun kneels by the bed, shakes him awake gently, and Taeyong startles awake, terrified, confused. Jaehyun moves to sit on the bed, to rest soothing hands on Taeyong’s skin again. Taeyong’s eyes focus on Jaehyun’s face, and he lets out one relieved sob and climbs into his lap and clings to him and cries quietly for a few long minutes. Jaehyun just holds him, worried sick, running his hands soothingly over Taeyong’s back, feeling the pull of his muscles under his fingertips with every shuddering breath he takes, whispering softly into his hair. “You’re going to be okay, hyung,” he breathes. “It was just a dream, you’re going to be okay, I’m going to take care of you and tuck you into bed, and nothing’s going to hurt you.”

 Slowly, eventually, Taeyong relaxes, the sobs wracking his body cease, and he starts breathing slower. He pulls back a little, and Jaehyun looks at his face, and his stomach twists because he’s never seen anyone looking that distraught, that broken, and it scares him.

“You good?” he says softly, his fingers softly stroking the side of Taeyong’s face. Taeyong nods.

“Sorry,” he says. “Bad dream.”

“What was it?” Jaehyun asks, thinking maybe he’d feel better if he just talked about it.

“I thought I was back in his house,” he says.

His house? Whose house? Something clicks. “Your uncle?” Jaehyun says.

Taeyong nods. “I was stuck there, and my sister never came to take me home,” he starts trembling. He opens his mouth to speak again but he stops like he can’t get the words out, and he’s breathing faster, shallower, and Jaehyun touches his face gently.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, don’t think about it anymore,” he says. “It was just a dream, you’re here now, with me, you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry Hyunnie,” Taeyong breathes, his hand curling around Jaehyun’s wrist like he’s making sure he’s there.

“Shut up, hyung,” Jaehyun chides softly. “I’ll go get you some water, hyung, wait here.”  

Taeyong’s grip tightens. “Don’t go,” he says.

“I’ll be right back,” Jaehyun says, but Taeyong starts shaking his head.

“Stay,” he pleads, and Jaehyun relents with a sigh. He moves them both so they’re lying down, and he wraps his arms around Taeyong and holds him close, his palms running soothingly over his back, a churning pit of fear and worry inside him.

“Thank you, Jaehyun,” Taeyong whispers, and Jaehyun shushes him again. He’s just being a good friend. This is what friends do. But then, sometime just before Taeyong falls asleep, he leans up and kisses Jaehyun on the mouth, and whispers “You’re amazing, you know that?” and Jaehyun smiles at him softly, kissing him back before letting him settle back down on his chest. Jaehyun is left wondering at how natural that was for them.

 

The next night, he tells Donghyuk to sleep in the other room, and Jaehyun quietly climbs into Taeyong’s bed again. Taeyong looks at him, and softly says “You don’t have to, Hyunnie, I’m fine.”

But Jaehyun shushes him again.

 

Jaehyun climbs into Taeyong’s bed almost every night after that, regardless of Donghyuk’s presence in the room. They don’t do anything. They don’t even hold each other. He just feels like Taeyong needs him there, and if he’s being really honest, he likes having Taeyong’s warmth next to him when he’s sleeping.

The first time he sidled in next to Taeyong with Donghyuk sleeping in his bed across the room, Taeyong shot a worried glance in the maknae’s direction, turning back to Jaehyun and mouthing “What about him?”

And Jaehyun whispered, “What about him? It’s not like we’re going to have sex or anything.”

It’s an echo from months ago, when Taeyong said the same thing to him, kept him close and took care of him in his moments of vulnerability, and all the words and the deeds that had followed rang in Taeyong’s ears. He let Jaehyun into his bed quietly, happy, grateful for Jaehyun and this kindness repaid.

Four or five times of Taeyong worrying about Donghyuk, and Donghyuk giving no fucks whatsoever about jaehyun’s presence in the room, and then Taeyong begins to relax. Now it’s more routine than anything else.

He doesn’t touch Taeyong. Not in a sexual way, not once. Partly because he hates feeling like he’s the only one who wants it, and partly because he knows it bothers Taeyong. Something’s wrong, he knows. Sometimes he lets himself think about it, about that uncle, about how Taeyong cries and trembles with a sadness and a terror he has never felt, every time he thinks of that man. About how Taeyong pushes him away with a sadness and a terror he doesn’t understand every time Jaehyun touches him. And he feels like he’s nearing some uncomfortable truth, and then nausea takes over and he shakes his head and clears his mind and stops himself before the thought forms completely.

Sometimes he wakes up with Taeyong’s arm slung across his waist, or with his hair tickling Jaehyun’s cheek, and he doesn’t really know which one of them made that happen, but he’s okay with it. It feels nice. And they used do things like this all the time, before their relationship changed. They used to share beds and throw arms and legs wherever they wanted and nobody thought twice about it. So when that happens, he just closes his eyes, nuzzles closer to the warm body next to him, and goes back to sleep. It feels nice.

 

 

He finds himself spending more and more time with Taeyong. Every time he feels like Taeyong is in a bad place, he just whisks him off to do something together, something fun, something silly, something to take his mind off whatever is pulling him down. It’s rewarding, immensely satisfying, because it’s helping. He knows he’s helping Taeyong, because his mood lifts, slowly, surely, as the days go by, he’s brighter, spaces out less often, and even when he does it’s easier to pull him back.

And he finds that he enjoys it, too. Taeyong needs to be taken care of right now, he thinks. And he’s more than happy to be the one doing it.

There’s something lovely about making Taeyong smile. It makes him warm inside, watching that smile spread timidly across his face, before it gains a little confidence and takes over, and Taeyong laughs. It’s sort of a goofy laugh, Jaehyun realizes. His shoulders shake, just like a child, and the laughter comes in waves, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to laugh, just trying it out, testing the waters. It really isn’t something graceful, doesn’t quite match the elegance of his features, but it’s Jaehyun’s favorite laugh.

 

 

One night, when Jaehyun comes in, and Donghyuk is preparing for bed, the maknae promptly picks up his blanket and makes towards the door. Taeyong sits up hurriedly, nervously, looks from Jaehyun to Donghyuk and says “Donghyukie, if this is making you uncomfortable, Jaehyun can just go back to his room…”

Donghyuk laughs. “It’s cool, hyung,” he says. “I’m just leaving because you guys need your privacy.”

Taeyong looks at him with wide eyes, poorly hidden anxiety in the twitch of his mouth, and Jaehyun almost laughs out loud. Donghyuk looks between his hyungs and a little nervous giggle slips out.

“So you can… talk… and stuff. You know, because I know you’re sad, and Jaehyun hyung makes you… feel better?”

Jaehyun feels bad for his flustered maknae, reaches out and pats him on the back. Donghyuk smiles, a world of meaning insinuated in his mischievous grin, says goodnight and rushes off to Jaehyun’s room before things get more awkward.

Taeyong stares at Jaehyun for a moment. “What does he know?” he says.

Jaehyun laughs. “He knows a few things,” he replies.

“Shit,” Taeyong breathes. “Should I talk to him about it?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Already did,” he says, climbing into Taeyong’s bed. “He’s fine with it, and he’s not going to tell anyone.”

Taeyong is still sitting up, confused with all this new information. “When… what? Why didn’t you tell me?” he says.

Jaehyun reaches out, pulls him down to lie down next to him. “You had enough on your plate,” he says.

Taeyong looks at him for a long moment. “You dealt with this all by yourself?” he says softly, and Jaehyun knows it’s silly, but he feels proud of the fact that he took care of Taeyong like that. Made sure nothing added to his worries. He feels oddly validated, like he’s important in Taeyong’s life.

Jaehyun nods, and a soft smile forms on Taeyong’s lips, his hand coming up to brush Jaehyun’s bangs out of his eyes. “You told him about us?”

“Not exactly, but I didn’t deny anything,” Jaehyun replies.

“I’m so proud,” Taeyong says, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, but Jaehyun cups his face and kisses him on the mouth. “Jaehyunnie, baby I’m so proud. You didn’t deny it, and that means you were comfortable enough with your sexuality to let Donghyuk know. You didn’t lie or run away, you’re so brave,” he says, and if this were anyone else, Jaehyun would have thought they were mocking him, but it’s Taeyong, so he knows it’s sincere.

“Hyung, stop being such a sap,” Jaehyun says, but he smiles either way, and he holds Taeyong tight. It feels good, he feels normal, like he’s owning himself. He feels good, because Taeyong was there for him when he needed someone, and he was there for Taeyong when he needed someone, and it feels like even if the whole world turns against them they’ll be there for each other. And things will be okay.

They fall asleep like that, and when Jaehyun wakes up the next morning with soft ash brown hair tickling his cheek, he knows he was the one who pulled Taeyong that close.

 

 

It’s in the early hours of morning, and Jaehyun wakes up to Taeyong pressing soft little kisses to his jaw.

“What’s this?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Felt like it,” Taeyong whispers. “Sorry, go back to sleep.”

Jaehyun smiles. “No,” he says. “Keep going, I missed this.”

Taeyong smiles against his skin, shifting so he can reach Jaehyun’s mouth. He kisses him softly, sensually, and Jaehyun finds himself thanking his stars for Donghyuk being tactful enough to leave the room every night.

He pulls Taeyong closer, sighing into his mouth. “You okay?” he asks, and it’s coming from a half formed thought somewhere in the back of his mind.

Taeyong nods, parts his lips, and Jaehyun kisses him deeper. It’s been too long since he felt Taeyong against him like this, and it’s setting his body on fire. He breaks the kiss.

“Can I touch you?” he breathes. “Hyung? Will you let me touch you?”

What a strange way to put it, Jaehyun thinks. He has never worded it like that.

Taeyong nods hesistantly. Jaehyun moves closer, and suddenly something in the air shifts. Taeyong screws his eyes shut, shrinks back against the wall, and Jaehyun freezes. Instinctively, he knows what Taeyong needs. Maybe it’s something he learnt tacitly from all the time he’s been spending with Taeyong,  maybe it’s that half formed thought unfurling slowly in the back of his mind, but he opens his mouth and the words slip out.

“Eyes on me, hyung,” he says softly. He reaches down, down to wrap his fingers around Taeyong only when he sees Taeyong beautiful brown eyes looking up at him. “Do you trust me?” he says, and Taeyong nods. Jaehyun knows he isn’t lying, and that makes him happy, sparking something gentle and protective inside him. Jaehyun starts moving his hand, whispering “Look at me, just look at me.”

Taeyong gasps, his body is trembling, but he’s looking right at Jaehyun’s face, and he doesn’t say stop, doesn’t say Hyunnie, I’m tired, or baby not tonight, doesn’t push his hands away. He feels good, Jaehyun can tell, and despite the fact that his eyes are fluttering shut, he keeps them open, on Jaehyun’s face.

“Do you even know how beautiful you are?” Jaehyun says, and it doesn’t even register that these words are leaving his mouth.

“You make it so hard for me to hold back, Taeyongie,” he says, his hand moving faster, and Taeyong is biting down furiously on his lower lip. “I want to hold you and kiss you, hyung, I could kiss you all day.”

“Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong whimpers, and his lips are raw, beautiful and red, and Jaehyun can’t take his eyes off. Taeyong leans into him and Jaehyun groans, kissing Taeyong gently, lovingly. It’s difficult for him to restrain himself, and it isn’t long before the kiss becomes more demanding, deeper, his tongue on Taeyong’s. But it’s too much for Taeyong, and he can feel Taeyong starting to resist, starting to slip away from him. Jaehyun breaks the kiss, slows things down again. “Just look at me,” he whispers, sitting up, pulling Taeyong into his lap gently.

Jaehyun looks at him, willing him to see his need, his overwhelming desire, willing Taeyong to trust him. Taeyong relaxes, slowly, breathlessly, he grinds down on Jaehyun’s arousal, their gazes locked. It feels incredible, Taeyong’s soft gasps and his movements, the pressure on Jaehyun’s arousal, everything amplified by how terrifyingly intimate it feels. He wants to do something, he needs something more, he wants to touch Taeyong, make him come apart.

“I’m going to touch you again, hyung,” he whispers. Taeyong nods hesitantly, inhales sharply when Jaehyun curls his fingers around his length, slowly stroking the soft skin, building up a gentle pace again, and Taeyong is keening, melting in his hands. This is what he wanted. Just to be able to pleasure Taeyong, to have him gasping and arching into his touch, this is what he wanted.

Taeyong’s movements still because he can’t handle that anymore, and he winds his arms around Jaehyun’s shoulders, and Jaehyun has one arm wrapped around Taeyong’s trembling body, and it’s a comfortable, secure, hold.

Taeyong kisses him breathlessly, and then he pulls away, keeps his eyes fixed on Jaehyun’s face. One hand slides down, down between Jaehyun’s thighs to squeeze gently. Jaehyun groans, half shock, because he didn’t think that was going to happen, and half arousal, because he has missed Taeyong’s touch. He starts moving his hand over Jaehyun’s pajamas, and their eyes are fixed on each other’s faces, and they’re breathing in tandem, like Jaehyun’s pleasure is Taeyong’s pleasure, too.

 The moment he slips his hand under the waistband, and his fingers tighten around Jaehyun’s length, Jaehyun moans. He’s missed this, his body has missed Taeyong so much.

 They keep stroking each other, kissing when the need for more gets overwhelming, more intimacy, more of the other’s body. Jaehyun’s eyes never leave Taeyong’s face, his beautiful face, because he hasn’t seen this in so long, that familiar blush, those dark eyes, bangs sticking to his damp skin, and he wants to learn it, lock it away in his memories forever.

They come apart quickly in each other’s hands, a sticky sweet release that leaves Taeyong gasping for breath and Jaehyun moaning softly into Taeyong’s skin. Taeyong’s chest is rising and falling with every harsh breath he takes, his eyes fluttering closed, his face flushed and his lips swollen. Jaehyun kisses him softly, soothing his bitten lips, calming him down with more innocent pleasures, because there’s something gentle and protective fluttering in his chest and it’s telling him that this is what Taeyong needs.

Taeyong holds him closer, tighter, whispering the younger’s name, his hand cradling the back of Jaehyun’s head, and Jaehyun settles against the soft skin in the crook of Taeyong’s neck.

In the moments they spend entwined in each other and silence, Jaehyun lets himself think about what just happened. They jerked each other off, that’s all, he realizes. Nothing ground breaking, nothing incredible, nothing to explain why his heart is still hammering, and it won’t stop. The image of Taeyong’s big brown trusting eyes is stuck behind his eyelids and it won’t fade. The warmth of his embrace is sinking into his skin and it won’t dissipate.

From a half formed thought in the back of his mind, another half formed thought is born, and he begins to understand the weight of what just happened. It’s not just jerking each other off, it’s not. He fought back that same sadness, that same terror, he fought it back and he let you do this, because he trusts you, because you were worthy, because he loves you, and this meant something to him.

And it meant something to you.


	11. Chapter 11

It’s been over a week since that morning, and Jaehyun finds himself strangely light, strangely happy, and he doesn’t know what gives because nothing has changed too drastically. Still the same workload, still the same faces every day. Still the same Taeyong. Except something’s a little different.

Since that morning, Jaehyun has found himself reaching for Taeyong more often. Not sexually. Just holding his hand sometimes. Just letting his eyes linger a little longer than before when Taeyong smiles. Just friendly contact. Friendly? He supposes that’s the word. If it’s not sexual, it’s friendly. Isn’t that how it works?

He’s still sleeping in Taeyong’s bed every night. He wonders why nobody has asked him about it, why everyone just accepted it like it’s no big deal. Maybe once or twice wouldn’t have mattered so much, but surely, it’s a bit weird that he shares a bed with Taeyong every night? And then he thinks about it, and he realizes that no one but Donghyuk knows that he sleeps in Taeyong’s bed. Everyone else assumes he takes Donghyuk’s bed, because why else would Donghyuk sleep in the other room every night? And switching rooms is no big deal, really, everyone does it.

All of a sudden, Jaehyun is filled with affection and gratitude for that wondrous, thoughtful maknae and his ability to keep a secret.

And that’s what nights with Taeyong are, secrets, behind a locked bedroom door.

Jaehyun doesn’t wait to wake up with Taeyong in his arms anymore, he just pulls him close and keeps him there. Because he’s warm, he argues. Because the nights are getting colder and colder and Taeyong is always so warm.

Only one of those nights, Jaehyun wakes up to the sound of sobbing. He calls out to his hyung softly, calls his name till he pulls him back from wherever he’s stuck, holds him, lets him burrow against his chest and breathe in his scent, lets him fall asleep holding his hand. Only one of those nights, they kiss, because Taeyong feels like it again, and Jaehyun is more than happy to comply. It’s a delicate, gentle, whisper of a thing, and it leaves him breathless, wondering when he got sensitive enough to be rendered breathless by chaste little kisses.

He wakes up every morning when Taeyong’s alarm rings and it’s always too early for Jaehyun, because Taeyong is the leader, and he needs to be up before everyone else, he needs to make sure everyone in the dorm wakes up and gets dressed in time for schedule, and it’s just too fucking early. Jaehyun doesn’t mind, but sometimes, it makes him a little grumpy because the mornings are cold too, and he wants his hyung there to keep him warm for a little while longer. One morning, he pulls Taeyong back into bed, whispers five more minutes, hyung, it’s too cold, and Taeyong laughs, and gives in, and holds Jaehyun in his arms and warms him right back up.

 

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and they have a couple of free hours before their evening events begin. Donghyuk, Winwin, Mark and Jaehyun are holed up in Taeyong’s room. Donghyuk is playing music on his phone, loud, irritating, EDM shit, and Mark is kicking him off the bed, urging him to change the damn song. Winwin laughs, only somewhat clued in to what’s happening, and Jaehyun is lying in Taeyong’s bed, watching them and laughing. Taeil and Yuta are being old men, passed out in their own beds. Taeyong is pottering about in the kitchen, heating up food for the younger members.

“Brats!” he calls out. “Winwin, Mark, Donghyuk, lunch!”

“Oh my god, food!” Donghyuk says, jumping up, mumbling a quick “Later hyung,” to Jaehyun, and dragging Winwin and Mark off with him. He leaves his phone there, still blaring that abrasive song, and Jaehyun is left wondering why he doesn’t count as one of the brats when he’s just about the same age as Winwin. He wants to be pampered too, he thinks sulkily, getting off the bed to go turn the song off so he can get some shut eye.

He’s just reaching for the phone lying on his bed when there’s a brief rapping at the half open door, and then Taeyong’s head pokes through.

“Hyunnie, will you eat with me later?” he asks.

Jaehyun smiles. That’s why he doesn’t count, he thinks. He nods.

Taeyong makes a face. “What’s with the music?” he asks.

“Donghyuk,” Jaehyun replies, like that explains everything.

“Ah,” Taeyong replies, nodding, because that does explain everything. “It’s making me want to dance, though.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “Go for it,” he says, plopping back down on the bed instead of turning the music off.

“Oh, I’m feeling it,” Taeyong says, one hand twitching rhythmically. “It’s coming. Jaehyun help, the dance is taking over me.”

Jaehyun chuckles, and he’s suddenly aware of just how goofy his hyung really is. With his bedroom eyes and his pelvic thrusts onstage, that _will you fuck me_ face in photoshoots, all that flaming eyebrow charisma is so full of shit. This is Taeyong. Laughing, goofy, comfortable. Not that he isn’t sexy, no, because Jesus, when he’s naked and twisting under Jaehyun, when he moans his name, it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. That’s not to say he can’t be sweet. When he falls asleep on Jaehyun’s chest, when he leans up and kisses him on the cheek, when he takes care of the younger members, he’s the sweetest. He’s everything. Lee Taeyong, a lovely little conundrum.

Lee Taeyong, dancing up a storm in his bedroom with no one but Jung Jaehyun to watch.

“Hyunnie, dance with me,” Taeyong says.

“What, no,” Jaehyun replies flatly.

“Jaehyunnie, come on,” he pleads, holding his hand out for Jaehyun to take, and Jaehyun does, reluctant only for a moment before he goes John Travolta in Pulp Fiction on Taeyong’s ass.

Taeyong bursts into laughter, and Jaehyun can’t help but smile, because he’s so happy that Taeyong is laughing. Uninhibited, that familiar laughter that comes in waves and lights up his face, and Jaehyun is so happy that he hasn’t seen Taeyong crying or thinking too hard about things Jaehyun doesn’t know, or waking up in the middle of the night drenched in tears and sweat, not once in the past week. He’s laughing and Jaehyun doesn’t really know when he slows down, when he reaches for Taeyong, when he wraps an arm around his waist and draws him close.

He doesn’t care that the door is still half open. He doesn’t care who sees, because he wants to hold Taeyong close and he will. Taeyong’s laughter recedes into a soft chuckle, and then into a softer smile, and his arms wind around Jaehyun’s shoulders. Jaehyun leans in and kisses the tip of his nose. He likes doing that, he realizes. Taeyong likes it too, if the smile in his eyes is anything to go by.

What’s this, he wonders. Not sexual. Not friendly, no, not quite.

He pulls Taeyong even closer, and they’re swaying to their own rhythm now, the clamor of the song is slipping away, and he’s dancing with Taeyong. Jaehyun leans in again, kisses him softly on the lips, and Taeyong sighs.

“What about the others?” he whispers.

“They’re… lunch,” Jaehyun says stupidly, going back for another kiss. This one lasts a little longer, and it makes Jaehyun’s insides flutter like the first time they shared a drunken kiss. What’s this, what is this? Something somewhere inside him is terrified and screaming, but for now, in Taeyong’s arms, the fluttering in his stomach is so much stronger, so much more important.

The kiss is only broken when they hear someone at the door, awkwardly clearing their throat. Taeyong pulls away swiftly, wide eyed, scared, and Jaehyun steps away from him, quickly putting distance between them, but it’s too late.

Donghyuk is standing at the door, face turned away from them, one hand covering his eyes.

“Yuta hyung woke up and told me to shut the music off before he kicks my ass,” he says timidly.

There’s one hell of a cringing silence for a moment, before Jaehyun realizes someone should do or say something.

“Right, sorry, I’ll do that,” Jaehyun says, picking the phone up and pressing pause. Donghyuk holds a hand out blindly, still standing there with his eyes closed. Jaehyun places the phone in his outstretched hand awkwardly.

Donghyuk backs away, still covering his eyes, fumbling with the doorknob to pull the door shut behind him. Just before the door clicks into place, they hear him muttering, at least close the damn door next time, god, these kids.

There’s another cringing silence before Jaehyun looks up at Taeyong and bursts into laughter. Taeyong hasn’t moved a muscle, still stuck standing there with his eyes wide and his mouth open.

“What’s with that face?” he says.

“What do you mean what’s with… he saw us!” Taeyong says, gesturing towards the door.

“So? It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before,” Jaehyun says, pulling Taeyong back into his arms.

Taeyong freezes. “What?” he says.

“He saw us kissing before, that’s how he knows,” Jaehyun reminds him.

“Oh god,” Taeyong breathes. “That’s so embarrassing. Poor kid, he must be so freaked out. But you talked to him about it, right?”

Jaehyun pauses. “Not exactly?” he ventures, and Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “I mean like… about the kissing? No. I didn’t really, exactly address that, per se. But he doesn’t give a shit, didn’t you see?”

“But…” Taeyong begins, but Jaehyun jumps in.

“But nothing, just come here,” Jaehyun says, pulling him back in for another kiss. Taeyong is a little reluctant, but Jaehyun works his mouth open with persistent little kisses and in no time, Taeyong is melting against him. Jaehyun’s tongue dips into his mouth, just for a second, and Taeyong makes a quiet sound of approval. Jaehyun grins.

“It’s so cute when you do that,” he says.

Taeyong smacks him upside the head. “Shut up,” he says. “Go talk to Donghyuk or I will.”

Jaehyun groans. “Fine,” he grumbles, releasing Taeyong and heading towards the door, throwing a final beseeching look at Taeyong before leaving the room.

 

 

“Yah maknae,” Jaehyun says and Donghyuk looks up at him from the game of mini militia he’s playing with Mark and Winwin.

“Yeah hyung?” he says distractedly.

“Come here for a second,” Jaehyun says, trying to be subtle but he hasn’t quite figured that one out yet.

Donghyuk looks at his phone, then at Jaehyun. Realization settles in his eyes. “Hyung, do I have to?” he whines.

“Mom’s orders,” Jaehyun says.

Donghyuk grumbles, and Mark looks up at them inquisitively, but he’s too polite to ask. And Winwin just sits there with a lovely benign smile.

They sit together at the kitchen table. Jaehyun clears his throat. For a second he remembers sitting with his father at a kitchen table years ago, talking about kissing a boy. And now here he is again, talking about kissing a boy. He almost laughs, because things are so different now, so much better, and he’s so much happier.

“So hyung,” Donghyuk says, his tone serious, stern almost. Jaehyun is taken aback. “What I want to tell you is, close the freaking door. What if someone else had seen you? Why have I been sitting on this big ass secret all this while if the two of you hormonal teenagers are going to be doing things all over the place leaving doors open so literally anyone could have seen you?”

Donghyuk huffs. Jaehyun stares open mouthed for a second, and then he chuckles. An incredulous, relieved, I don’t even know what’s happening sort of laugh.

Donghyuk glares at him. Jaehyun stops laughing immediately.

“I’m sorry, maknae,” he says somberly. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry you had to see that, I’m sorry if we made things awkward for you, and I’m very grateful to you for keeping our secret.”

Donghyuk glares some more. “Who slow dances to EDM anyway?” he grumbles.

Jaehyun tries his best, but he can’t hold his laughter back this time.

“Oh well, I guess love makes you stupid,” Donghyuk muses, and it takes a second for it to sink in, but when it does, Jaehyun’s laughter catches in his throat. Donghyuk looks up at him.

“What?” he says. “What did I say? I said something stupid again, didn’t I? Okay, shit, things are getting awkward. Okay, I’m going back to my game. Kay, hyung, good talk.”

The kitchen chair scrapes against the floor with an uncomfortable screech, and Donghyuk is getting to his feet. Jaehyun should probably say something, but he’s still trying to process that. Love? Is that what that is? No, no way.

“Maknae, wait, it’s not exactly like that,” Jaehyun says. He’s struggling, because he doesn’t know exactly what it’s like. What is their relationship? He wants to say something, but he’s really struggling. Donghyuk is looking at him expectantly. “He’s uh, he’s just. We’re friends.”

“That’s confusing,” Donghyuk says slowly. “I’m also getting the feeling I don’t really want to know the whole story?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, cracks a smile. “Never mind,” he says. “Go back to your game. Sorry again, Donghyuk.”

Donghyuk smiles back at him, runs off back to the other two.

Jaehyun watches him go. Love, he thinks. That’s too much. That can’t be right. He wants to fuck Taeyong, yes, but love? That’s one of the big ones, the marriage and forever and kids sort of thing, that’s what he was taught. Bringing them to meet your grandma, and saying this is the person I love, that sort of thing. That’s too much. He can’t do that.

Does he want that? Does he want to be with him? For a moment he remembers things from years ago. He remembers what came before this overwhelming desire for Taeyong. He remembers what came before sex, before kisses, before anything. That fluttering. That same fluttering, that he stomped out, forgot about conveniently like everything else, kept at bay with screams of he's a friend, he's a boy, he's just a friend. It's coming back, he thinks. But he can't, because... he can't. It's too much.

Behind a locked bedroom door, a secret, that’s what Taeyong is. That's all they can be.


	12. Chapter 12

He’s a little oddly wooden for the hours that follow, Donghyuk’s words swimming in circles in his head. He sits quietly in the van on the way to the event and on the way back. Doesn’t reach out to touch Taeyong, no hand holding, no wandering fingers, nothing. Friends don’t do that. Friends with benefits don’t do that. Why should he?

That night, after they return to the dorm, shower and head off to their rooms to sleep, Jaehyun finds himself standing in the middle of the room, eyeing Donghyuk’s empty bed, wondering if he should sleep there instead of sharing a bed with Taeyong. Friends don’t share a bed for no reason. Friends with benefits don’t either. Why should they?

A soft tug on his shirt sleeve pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Taeyong says. “You seem upset.”

“I’m fine,” Jaehyun replies distractedly.

“You sure?” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun looks at him, meets Taeyong’s big eyes searching his face worriedly. He smiles. “Yeah.”

Taeyong seems unconvinced, but he’s thankful because he doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he wraps his arms around Jaehyun’s middle, tucks his chin into Jaehyun’s shoulder, hugs him tight, and Jaehyun hugs back hesitantly. A few moments pass, and Taeyong pulls away, kisses him on the cheek and whispers “Don’t be upset.”

Jaehyun smiles again, because that’s so sweet, and he can’t help himself. “I’m not upset,” he says. “Let’s sleep.”

He lets Taeyong pull him towards his bed, doesn’t resist, but when they do settle down in Taeyong’s bed, he doesn’t pull his hyung close like he’s been doing every night. He just rolls over to face the wall and closes his eyes. He doesn’t think about what Taeyong’s face must look like, confused, worried.

Sleep evades him, because all of a sudden, it feels too meaningful, too intimate to be lying in bed with a man he has fucked before, a man he has kissed and hugged and held. He’s still considering getting up and sleeping in Donghyuk’s bed. Still thinking about all the things they do together, what it means, what it all means. He’s thought about it before, of course he has, but back then it was easy to brush off, because it was all overshadowed by sex and pleasure and it was so easy to say friends with benefits. That’s all.

But now, with those soft, lingering kisses, those soft, lingering looks, he finds that it’s not that easy anymore.

 

Sometime in the middle of the night, he hears a soft whisper.

“You’re still awake, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says.

“You want to talk about it?” Taeyong says.

 “No,” he replies. A few moments pass in silence.

“Jaehyun?”

“Yeah, hyung?”

“You’re being a despicable blanket hogger right now.”

Jaehyun laughs, realizing that in his efforts to put distance between them, he has moved as close to the wall as he can, taking the comforter with him. He rolls over to face Taeyong, moves in closer, covering his hyung with the comforter.

“Sorry,” he says. Taeyong grins and reaches up, his fingertips soft against Jaehyun’s skin when he lets them trail over his cheek. He leans in, presses a gentle kiss to Jaehyun’s mouth.

“Much better,” he says. Jaehyun doesn’t know if he means having the blanket back, or having him close again, and that unsettles him a little.

Taeyong leans in to kiss him again, and Jaehyun lets him, but he doesn’t let it stay innocent. It feels incongruous with everything he’s been telling himself for the past few hours. If they kiss, it should be for pleasure, something leading up to sex, or a blowjob, or something like that. These little tender kisses are out of place in their relationship, he reasons.

He pulls Taeyong closer with a hand on the back of his neck. He parts Taeyong’s lips gently with a teasing tongue, licking at the inside of his mouth till he hums his approval, till his hand fists in Jaehyun’s t shirt and pulls him closer. When they break apart to breathe, Taeyong looks a little dazed.

“Feel better?” he whispers with a soft smile.

Jaehyun nods. “Much,” he says, and it’s true because it feels like the lines are getting a little clearer.

“Tell you what,” Taeyong says. “Why don’t I suck you off, and then you’ll feel great, and you’ll sleep better.”

Jaehyun looks at him incredulously for a moment, and then he grins.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, thinking about all the times Taeyong has pushed his hands away.

“I want to,” Taeyong replies.

Jaehyun nods. This is starting to feel more comfortable, this isn’t uncharted territory.

Taeyong pecks him on the lips once before disappearing under the blankets. He feels his pajamas being pushed down. All Jaehyun knows after that is Taeyong’s hands stroking him to hardness, Taeyong’s warm mouth bringing him release.

When Taeyong comes back up, wiping spit and come from the corners of his mouth, leaning in to press an exploring kiss to Jaehyun’s mouth, letting him taste himself, that’s when Jaehyun feels better. His muscles tired from the intensity of his release, his fears and his doubts allayed, this is what it was supposed to be about, he remembers. Pleasure, that’s what this is all about. So when Taeyong throws an arm over Jaehyun’s waist and cuddles up to him, he lets him, because all of that is overshadowed by the pleasure he just brought him. Now it’s a little easier to say, hey, friends with benefits. That’s all.

 

 

“Hyunnie?” Taeyong says softly. Jaehyun hums.

A day has passed since everything Donghyuk said. Things are still shaky for Jaehyun, sometimes he’s comfortable, sometimes he’s confused, afraid of what their relationship is. They’re lying in Taeyong’s bed, and the older is resting his head on Jaehyun’s chest, his fingers playing with Jaehyun’s. It’s shaky again. It feels good, a warm body to fend off the cold weather, a few tender caresses to fend off loneliness, but that’s not what they’re supposed to be to each other.

“Can I ask you something?” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun nods.

“Tell me when this started.”

“What?” Jaehyun says.

“When did I become… not just a friend to you?”

Jaehyun opens his eyes, his body stiffening a little. “I already told you, hyung,” he says.

“You opened your eyes one day and suddenly pictured me jerking you off, that’s what you’re telling me?”

Jaehyun sighs. “What are you asking me, hyung?”

“How did it really start?”

The truth. Should he tell him? Taeyong leans up and kisses the angle of his jaw. Should he lie? Taeyong’s mouth moves to press a kiss to his cheek. Doesn’t he deserve the truth? Taeyong kisses the corner of his mouth. But that’s complicated again, that’s going to change things. A partial truth, perhaps? Taeyong kisses him, full on the mouth, softly, tantalizingly. He tells him.

 “When you used to fall asleep in my lap. That’s the first time I wanted to kiss you.”

He knows what he just admitted.

NCT 127, NCT U, Sm Rookies, before that. Before standing side by side in every public appearance, before Mnet and eye makeup, before drunken kisses, before broken fingers. Just months after their training began. Letting a tired, miserable Taeyong use his thighs as pillows and curl up on the practice room floor for a ten minute nap.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong says. “That was so long ago.”

Jaehyun nods. Taeyong’s eyes are searching his face. Jaehyun wonders what he finds there.

“Jaehyun,” he says again. “That night, Johnny hyung’s birthday, you and I were so drunk and you slept in my bed, you remember?”

Jaehyun nods again. He knows where this is going.

“Do you really not remember anything from that night? Nothing?” Taeyong says.

A partial truth, then?

“I remember… some things.”

“Go on,” Taeyong says.

“We kissed,” Jaehyun says.

“And you liked it, didn’t you?” Taeyong says. There’s no accusation there. It’s not even a question.

Jaehyun nods hesitantly. He’s afraid of the things Taeyong wants him to say.

“Because you wanted me, back then, you wanted me. You’ve wanted me for so fucking long.”

“Yes.”

“And you remembered all along. You lied to me, you said you didn’t remember.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, and he’s more afraid than apologetic.

“You got scared, didn’t you? You felt ashamed, guilty?”

Jaehyun nods again. He hates him a little in that moment for making him talk about things he doesn’t want to address.

“Is that all you remember?” Taeyong asks.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun says. He doesn’t want to lie to Taeyong again, but he isn’t ready to think about this. He isn’t ready to think about feeding Taeyong when his finger was broken, he doesn’t want to think about letting him sleep in his lap, he doesn’t want to think about the fact that way before he wanted to fuck him, he wanted to fall in love with him. That he made – makes - his heart flutter and his stomach flip and he’s so pretty, and so warm, and so perfect, and he hates him, because he’s so easy to fall in love with, and Jaehyun is running out of words to convince himself that this is just friends with benefits, and he can’t think about that for now.

Taeyong leans in, kisses Jaehyun again, that same soft, tentative press of his lips again Jaehyun’s.

“Are you still afraid?” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun swallows. He knows why Taeyong is asking.

“What happened next, Jaehyun?” Taeyong says, and he takes Jaehyun’s hand and places it on the side of his face, and Jaehyun begins to realize what Taeyong is doing. “What happened next?” he whispers.

Jaehyun leans in slowly, kisses Taeyong, and they’re lying in bed just like that night, hands and legs and mouths exactly as they were that night. What happened then?

Jaehyun rolls on top of him, lowers himself to kiss Taeyong breathless, lower still to press feathery kisses to his neck. Taeyong arches into his touch, his hand sliding into the short hair at the back of his head, exactly the same as that night, the same things in the same order. When he pulls back to look at Taeyong’s face, it’s the same, just that his hair is an ashier brown now, his skin a little grey from exhaustion, but his eyes are the same, deep, glimmering brown.

“I remember everything, Hyunnie. Everything we did, exactly the way it was,” he says softly.

He reaches up, to caress Jaehyun’s cheek, and it’s that same unmistakable tenderness in his eyes. He knows what comes next, his lips will part, and he’ll say, _I like you._

“That’s all I remember,” Jaehyun says, before that can happen.

“Are you sure?”

“That’s all I remember,” he says again, resolute, the slightest hint of irritation in his voice. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Jaehyun, you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“What are you talking about, hyung?” he says, and there it is, unmistakably irritated. He moves off Taeyong. He rolls onto his side, facing away from the boy in his bed. “Why are we talking about this?”

Taeyong sighs, and Jaehyun pretends like he doesn’t hear the hurt and disappointment in it. “Okay,” he says. And Jaehyun is a little surprised when he feels Taeyong’s chest against his back, his arm draping over his waist.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. “Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?”

Jaehyun laces their fingers together over his abdomen. He remembers, of course he remembers. Taeyong confessed, and Jaehyun smiled, leaned down, kissed him again. He didn’t say the words back, no he didn’t, but he meant to. That night, he put it all into his kisses, and tasted the inside of Taeyong’s mouth and left his confession there, no words, he couldn’t get them out, but he left his confession in Taeyong’s skin till they realized they were too drunk to stay awake and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Jaehyun opens his mouth. “Hyung,” he says. “Why are you the big spoon again?”

Taeyong laughs, his breath tickling the side of Jaehyun’s neck, and they roll over to take their usual positions. Jaehyun holds him too tight, too close, and maybe it’s an apology, maybe he’s just making sure Taeyong stays. Even if it’s not the way Taeyong wants it, just some formless relationship with nothing to define it, even if Jaehyun gives him nothing, no sweet words, no confessions, no honesty, nothing worth trusting, even then, he has to stay.

 

Jaehyun lies awake for the rest of that night, thinking, thinking. A few excruciating hours spent organizing his thoughts, stowing them away one at a time into dark corners of his mind so he won’t have to look at them again in the morning. He holds Taeyong till he falls asleep, and it feels like a betrayal of sorts, like giving him hope with his warm embrace, all the while knowing he’s hours from taking it away. Morning approaches slugglishly, and Jaehyun quietly slips out of Taeyong’s bed before that familiar alarm rings.

Jaehyun is finishing up his cereal and chatting with Yuta when Taeyong joins them for breakfast. Jaehyun knows the look Taeyong gives him. Worried, questioning, are we okay, Hyunnie? He smiles stupidly, like nothing’s wrong, and goes back to his conversation with Yuta.

Everything is wrong. Everything is out of balance. He’s afraid of what their relationship is turning into. Donghyuk put the thought in his head, perhaps this relationship is not as simple as you want to believe. Taeyong reinforced it. The conversation they had, all the things Jaehyun said that were never supposed to be reavealed. He’ll deny it all, conveniently forget.

Taeyong tries to talk to him, but they don’t find the time or privacy that they need, and Jaehyun is grateful.

That night, after Taeyong turns in, Jaehyun waits in the living room, tired out of his mind but willing himself to stay awake and keep himself busy with something else. He knows that Taeyong is probably waiting for him in his bedroom, waiting for him to slide into his bed so he can quietly ask if everything’s okay. Jaehyun waits till he’s sure Taeyong would be asleep, and then he quietly enters the room.

Now he doesn’t need to explain himself when he chooses to sleep in Donghyuk’s bed. No need for an awkward conversation. He wants to lay down some boundaries, but he doesn’t want to hurt Taeyong, either. He’ll do it quietly, like this, when nobody’s looking. And if he’s asked about it in the morning, Hyunnie why didn’t you sleep in my bed last night, he’ll say, hyung, you were already asleep, I didn’t want to wake you. Tomorrow, he’ll do the same thing, he decides. Perhaps find another excuse. But eventually, Taeyong would have to stop asking, he’d have to realize that they don’t have the kind of relationship that allows things like that.

He falls asleep, willing himself not to think of how much warmer Taeyong’s bed would be. How nice it would be to smell his scent on the sheets.

The next morning, Taeyong asks him about it, a whispered question just before they leave for work. Jaehyun tells him, and Taeyong smiles and nods, unconvinced, but he’s not going to push it.

 

On a free afternoon, Jaehyun finds himself looking for Mark and Donghyuk. He doesn’t want to spend that time with Taeyong. He knows that a serious discussion, maybe even a fight, is imminent. He knows, because he’s been sleeping in Donghyuk’s bed for a week now, and he’s exhausted his excuses. I think I’m coming down with something, he told Taeyong, I don’t want you to get sick, too so I’ll sleep over here. Taeyong raised his hand to Jaehyun’s forehead worriedly, and Jaehyun had to tell him hyung it’s not a fever, it’s like a sore throat, and Taeyong nodded, smiled, still unconvinced, but he still didn’t push.

“Hey,” Jaehyun says, settling down on his own bed, in the room he’s supposed to be sharing with Mark and Yuta. The bed he hasn’t slept in for weeks now.

Mark and Donghyuk look up at him from the game they’re trying to play on Mark’s laptop. Their faces bear twin expressions, somewhat puzzled.

“Hey hyung,” they say.

“Where’s Taeyong hyung?” Mark asks, looking towards the door like he expects Taeyong to follow Jaehyun in.

Jaehyun shrugs. “Sleeping? I don’t know.”

Donghyuk’s gaze lingers on him for a moment too long, and Jaehyun knows that fucking maknae has picked up on the atmosphere. He’s irritatingly sharp, Jaehyun thinks.

Jaehyun wants to ask them if they’ll let him play, or do something, just find a way to spend his time with someone apart from Taeyong. That’s how it used to be, Jaehyun muses. He used to be in that wonderful Goldilocks zone between hyung and dongsaeng, and he could fit anywhere, with Taeyong and Taeil and all the other hyungs if he wanted, or with Mark and Winwin and Donghyuk, the youngest members, if he chose. He used to be able to happily spend time with anyone, fit with all their personalities perfectly, flit from person to person and still have fun.

Now things are a little different, it feels like it’s been too long since he interacted with any of them, too much time spent learning Taeyong, his body, his moods, the things that make him laugh, and he’s forgotten how to hang out with other people. He lies there awkwardly for a few moments, but the two youngest are nice, friendly kids, and they invite him to join their fun, and Jaehyun thanks his stars for their happy virus personalities.

But as he settles down near Mark’s feet, he finds himself feeling strangely melancholic. He finds himself thinking he’d much rather be lying in bed doing nothing than sitting here awkwardly, trying to remember how to fit in with these two people.

He ignores the fact that in his mind, when he pictures himself lying in bed, he’s with Taeyong. Resting his head in the other’s lap, letting him run his fingers through his hair absent mindedly. That’s not important.

 

It’s late again, and Jaehyun is trying to do the same thing, sit up and wait till Taeyong falls asleep, but the lights in the dorm are turned off one by one, and Jaehyun finds his eyes falling shut, his head too heavy to hold up. His eyes snap open when he feels a presence nearby, and he blinks in confusion, forcing his eyes to focus. That’s when he realizes that Taeyong is sliding into his lap, straddling him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him.

Jaehyun takes a moment to get past the shock, and then he lets the older kiss him deeply, not the sweet little things he’s been giving Jaehyun of late, but something heavy, laced with want. Jaehyun winds his arms around Taeyong’s waist to pull him closer, kiss him harder, and he’s glad, so glad that it feels so simple. Perhaps it’s working, he thinks. Taeyong is beginning to realize what their relationship is.

Taeyong grinds down on him, and Jaehyun almost moans, because Taeyong hasn’t been like this for a long time, and he misses him, physically misses him.

Taeyong breaks the kiss.

“You’re not too sick to make out, then?” he says.

Jaehyun stares at him, dumbfounded. “I… you surprised me,” he says stupidly.

He knows Taeyong sees through all his bullshit. In some childish way, he finds himself reacting defensively, a little angry at Taeyong for the possible accusation behind his words. Taeyong is right, but that doesn’t matter.

Taeyong climbs off his lap. “Stop lying to me,” he says softly. “If something’s wrong, tell me, Jaehyun. I’m not a child, I’m not an idiot. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

“Hyung, nothing’s wrong,” Jaehyun says.

“Alright, Jaehyun,” Taeyong replies, and leaves him sitting there trying to cool his hot skin, trying to calm his racing heart, trying to soothe some unidentifiable pain, somewhere inside him.

 

They’re on the way back from an SMTOWN concert. Taeyong is sitting by his side, and Jaehyun won’t look at him. He sits there woodenly, staring out of the van window like there’s something worth looking at, but there’s some unsettling, consuming, something inside him and it rears its head and flares an ugly color every time he looks at Taeyong.

It’s not the fact that they haven’t really been talking or hanging out for days now, because that’s what Jaehyun wanted, and he’s glad Taeyong hasn’t asked him why he’s acting like this. It’s not like Taeyong has said or done anything to him either, nothing mean, nothing but friendliness in his voice and demeanor. It’s not even the fact that Jaehyun finds himself bordering on miserable some nights because he just misses Taeyong so much, misses his gentle hands on his body, his mouth, his ashy hair, a little rough from bleach, his pretty, pretty eyes looking up at Jaehyun with a smile dancing somewhere behind them when he kisses Jaehyun goodnight and falls asleep on his chest.

He tries to figure out what it is. He has one theory, but he’s not willing to accept that, so he frantically searches for other explanations. His head hurts, his eyes burn with fatigue, and he gives up, resting his head against the glass and closing his eyes.

Behind closed eyes, he sees it again, Chanyeol sunbae, tall, sexy, friendly, adorable, everything in one. He sees the way he held his hand out, the way he smiled at Taeyong, the way Taeyong blushed stupidly before he took it, and he couldn’t help but hate how good they looked together. It bothers him immensely, and his eyelids snap open, and he blinks a few times, sitting up straight.

“You okay?” Taeyong says softly.

Jaehyun looks at him, and it flares up again, and he gives him a tight lipped smile and a curt nod before looking back out the window.

Taeyong looks at him for a moment longer, and then out of the corner of his eye, Jaehyun sees him turning away, feels him shifting a little, putting some distance between them.

 

Back at the dorm, they’re heading into their rooms, freshly showered, the day’s sweat and makeup scrubbed off their bodies. Jaehyun follows Taeyong in this time, closing the door quietly behind him.

Taeyong looks up in surprise, like he expected to fall asleep in an empty room again. “Oh you’re… okay,” he says.

Jaehyun steps forward to where Taeyong is standing in the middle of the room. He knows this feeling, he thinks. He remembers it from that night with Park Minjun. He wraps his arms around Taeyong, pulls him in close, kisses him. Mine.

Taeyong resists, his hands pushing at Jaehyun’s chest and Jaehyun stops, pulls away, and he’s unreasonably hurt. This isn’t the first time that’s happened, but tonight it feels more like a rejection than any other night. He finds himself thinking about Chanyeol’s broad shoulders, his deep voice, skin slightly sun kissed, and he realizes just how similar he is to Minjun. He’s irritated.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong says softly, and Jaehyun releases him. He doesn’t let him complete his sentence.

“Okay,” he says, turning to go to bed. “You don’t want to, or you don’t want me?”

“Jaehyun, I told you already, it’s my problem. It’s not your fault,” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun nods. Taeyong looks at him for a moment like he’s trying to string words together, but then Jaehyun speaks.

“You think Chanyeol hyung is cute?” he asks nonchalantly, sitting on the edge of his bed, determined not to reveal just how much it’s bothering him.

Taeyong looks confused for a second, and then he nods, “Yeah, he’s really cute,” he says.

“You guys look together, you know that?” Jaehyun says, and he wonders why he’s saying these things. If they’re just friends with benefits, this should be okay, right? It’s normal, because he doesn’t have feelings for Taeyong, he doesn’t.

Taeyong gawps at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” he says.

“I’m just saying, I saw you two today, before we took a bow. It was cute, your face was all red, and… it was cute,” he says, an ugly twist in his stomach.

“Jaehyun I was just flustered because he’s from EXO, and they’re our seniors and they’re so successful,” Taeyong says, and he thinks he hears hurt in his voice.

“Hyung, shut up, I know you’ve had a crush on him for a while now,” Jaehyun says.

“Yeah, he’s an attractive man, but it’s the same way I have a crush on So Ji Sub, like it’s that celebrity crush. It won’t amount to anything, you know what I mean?”

“If you asked him to fuck you, do you really think he’d say no?” Jaehyun says, and he sounds a little meaner than he meant to.

“What?”

“You’re so pretty hyung, and so… persuasive. I don’t think he could resist you.”

“Is that why you fucked me?” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun knows he isn’t imagining the hurt this time.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says softly. Taeyong is still standing there looking at him. “Let’s just go to bed, hyung.”

“No, I… Jaehyun stop. Just… what are we?” Taeyong says, a hint of desperation in an otherwise calm voice.

“What are you talking about, hyung?”

“I just need to know where I stand with you. Because there are times you take care of me like… I don’t know, like…”

“Like what?” Jaehyun says, and there it is again, something mean about the way he says it.

“I don’t fucking know, Jaehyun. I don’t know what’s happening because all of a sudden, you’re making dinner and coffee and you’re spending time with me and being wonderful and it feels like we’re… I don’t know what to think. And then all of sudden, you’re being… different. It’s fucking me up, just tell me what we are right now. I won’t ask again.”

Jaehyun takes a long breath. “You and I are friends with benefits,” he says.

“Really? Friends with benefits who don’t fuck, just kiss and hold hands and spend time together?”

“We don’t fuck because every time I touch you, you look like you’re going to cry. Am I supposed to ignore that and go right ahead?” Jaehyun says.

Taeyong looks at him, and Jaehyun sees the tears he’s trying to blink away.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. “I’m working on it, I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun sighs, something exasperated, perhaps apologetic. “Look, I know you’re hurting, and you don’t want to do it in your current state of mind, so I’m okay if we don’t have sex. I take care of you, because we were friends first. I do all those things because I would be a terrible person to leave you by yourself when I can see that you’re upset,” Jaehyun says. “But I’m pretty frustrated too, hyung. I can’t keep…”

Jaehyun stops himself before he says anything more. He wants to lie, say things that make it clear he doesn’t think of Taeyong that way, but he shouldn’t say that. That would be going too far, wouldn’t it?

“Go on,” Taeyong says.

“Nothing, fuck it.”

“Jaehyun, just say it.”

Perhaps he should. Perhaps that’ll make their lines clearer. This is what we are, nothing more.

“I can’t keep taking care of you.”

“Right. Because we’re just friends, with a few perks.”

Jaehyun nods.

“And if you take the benefits out of friends with benefits, that leaves you with just friends. All the things you do, you’re just being a good friend.”

Jaehyun nods again.

“And sometimes you get tired of taking care of me, because it’s not like I’m your boyfriend or anything. You didn’t sign up for this shit, right? That’s why you’re avoiding me?”

Jaehyun blinks at him.

"Okay," Taeyong says. "That's clear then."

“Hyung, look,” Jaehyun begins, but Taeyong cuts him off.

“I want to make things normal again. We were having so much fun, and then I just sort of… fucked it all up. You and I are good like this, like friends who do stuff,” Taeyong says, and he smiles, and it’s forced, clearly forced. “Just give me a couple of days, I’ll sort my shit out, and we can pick up where we left off. If you want to.”

Jaehyun feels bad, really bad. He feels wretched again, the image of Taeyong’s tight lipped smile lingering behind his eyelids longer than it should. Stupid, childish, clumsy, ripping flowers to shreds.

“You don’t have to, we can stay friends. I mean of course I want to, but I know you’re not really okay right now. You don’t have to do this, that’s all I’m saying,” he says.

“No, I think I’ve been wallowing in this for long enough. I’m tired too. I just want to go back to the way it was. I want to have a good time, with you. Now go to sleep, let’s not talk about this anymore.”

“Hyung, I…”

“Good night, Jaehyun.”


	13. Chapter 13

“What do I do, Noona?”

It’s a soft whisper, only audible because everything is dead silent.

Jaehyun is sitting cross legged on the floor in the shadows, close to the living room. It’s three or four in the morning, and the whole dorm is quiet.

About fifteen minutes prior to this, he woke up to the sound of Taeyong leaving the room, and Jaehyun got out of bed hurriedly, silently following behind him, worry running thick in his veins. He stood in the shadows listening to the sounds of Taeyong settling down on the couch, waiting to see if Taeyong needed him, if it was another dream, if he needed to cry and be held, but then he heard him talking on the phone and felt relief washing over him.

Momentary relief, because he wondered who Taeyong needed to talk to at three in the morning, whispering like that. He found himself moving closer, trying to hear what he was saying, close enough to hear all the words, and he stood there silently till he realized he was talking to his sister. He turned to leave, but then the things he was saying, Jaehyun found himself rooted to the spot.

“I was so sure,” Taeyong’s voice said. “The way he touches me, noona, I was so sure he felt something for me, too.”

Jaehyun froze, stood there listening to his hyung’s soft voice, intruding on his conversation. As the minutes ticked by, he sank to the floor, leaning against the wall, hiding in the shadows.

There’s a pause. “Back then, too. He says he doesn’t remember, but even if he doesn’t, it’s still true that he kissed me back that night. And that’s what I mean, the way he kissed me, I was so sure he liked me,” he continues. “But then he… everything he does and says, I don’t know if it’s because he needs time to figure out his feelings, or if it’s because he doesn’t feel anything for me.”

Jaehyun sits there letting the words sink in. A stupid part of his mind wonders if Taeyong could be talking about someone else.

Another pause. “Noona, don’t. That sounds so patronizing right now. You’re my sister, you have to say I’m handsome and amazing, that’s like a moral obligation. It doesn’t mean anything.”

What? What the hell is he saying? He is handsome, he’s beautiful, really. He is amazing. Strong, determined, kind, gentle. He’s amazing.

“Well I sure as shit don’t feel like that. I feel like… I don’t think he can love me, noona. I… it feels like nobody can love me.”

Jaehyun hears the way his voice cracks a little towards the end. There’s a long pause, long, filled with what he thinks are labored breaths, the sound of sorrow being held down. What is he even saying? Why would he think that? He’s beautiful, even when he’s being socially awkward, too intimidated and anxious to form full sentences when he’s around big groups of people. Even when he’s sweaty and gross from hours of practice, even when he catches a cold and somehow goes from independent, introverted, charismatic leader to a whiny little baby, even then he’s amazing.

“No, I’m okay. I’m sorry, I know I promised never to say that again,’ Taeyong’s voice, raw with the remnants of those moments, and Jaehyun’s chest hurts.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just being dramatic. But it just… it hurts so much. It was going so well, I was sleeping in his arms every night and everyday he was so sweet, and that’s how he is, he’s sweet and he cares too much. I wish you’d seen it, he… when I dream, he’s there when I wake up, and I feel so safe with him, like nothing bad ever happened to me, and nothing ever will,” he says. He pauses. Jaehyun holds his breath, thinking about what he’s saying. The things he did, they meant something to Taeyong. They were important to Taeyong. They were important to him, too. It makes him feel good, being the boy that keeps Taeyong safe, being the sweetness in his life.

“But then, I don’t know what happened, he just shut me out all of a sudden. I miss him, I want him to hold me and make me feel like that again. And I can’t help but feel like he suddenly realized I’m not worth it. I’m just tired of feeling like this. I’m never sure, not once, if he really cares about me or if he just wants to fuck me. Last night, god the things he said. I felt like a whore, and I know he didn’t mean it like that, he’s too sweet to think that, but it still hurt.”

Jaehyun’s heart is in his throat. Of course he would never think that. He was just angry. At whom?

Angry, at himself? For pushing Taeyong away, being selfish and cowardly and pushing Taeyong away?

Afraid, too. Afraid of Taeyong leaving, deciding he’s had enough of the way Jaehyun’s been treating him, going to some other man who can treat him better.

He was just protecting his own ego when he said those things. He’d never think so little of Taeyong.

“You’re right, it’s weird how sudden it was. Something must have happened, and he just won’t talk about it. I’ve tried, noona, he keeps insisting everything’s fine.”

Another pause. Jaehyun thinks about how ridiculously see through he is. Taeyong knows everything. Taeyong is dealing with this like an adult. Jaehyun is being a scared little child.

“I mean, even if he doesn’t feel the same way, even if we’re stuck being friends with benefits forever, I’m okay. As long as he talks to me about what he’s going through instead of shutting me out and being an idiot and saying mean things, I’m fine.”

Jaehyun wonders at that. How is that fine? He has feelings for him, so how can he be fine like this?

“He’s made so much progress, though, he’s been really brave all this while. I… I should trust him. He’ll talk to me, eventually. I know he will. He just needs more time.”

Another pause.

Taeyong understands. He’s hurt, he’s upset, he has every right to be angry at Jaehyun for treating him like a lover and leading him on, and then taking it all away for no apparent reason. For being cold, being dishonest, for leaving him out of the loop. But still, he understands.

“Yeah, he just needs time.”

The conversation shifts, and then he’s hearing about Taeyong’s sister’s life, her husband, her job, their parents. He gets to his feet, goes back to bed.

 

Daylight comes, and Jaehyun’s mind is ticking. The whole day is spent replaying the things he heard, over and over. The whole day is spent, ashamed of how he’s been treating the only man who every truly accepted him for who he is.

The whole night is spent recalling all those moments he shared with Taeyong, right from the start, trying to chalk out what the hell it all means. His best friend. His little bundle of pleasure, of all his darkest fantasies realized.

Jaehyun wonders at that, at the very different pleasures he’s felt around him. The heavy, twisting head rush of being buried in Taeyong’s body, claiming it, his hands, his mouth, everything at his mercy. The gentle wash of warmth, when he’s tired, lonely, and Taeyong’s hands rub soothing circles in his back, work the tension out of his shoulders, run through his hair till he falls asleep.

The innocent pleasures of doing unimportant things. Fuck the schedule, fuck beauty sleep, fuck everything. Let’s dance, let’s watch a movie, let’s talk for no reason, let’s kiss, just kiss, just hold hands, just hold each other.

And then, the pleasure of caring for someone. When the tables turn, and Taeyong is the one who needs to be taken care of. The pride he feels when Taeyong rests his head on Jaehyun’s shoulder after a long day.

He thinks about Taeyong, lying in his arms, trying to cry out a sorrow Jaehyun doesn’t understand. Somebody hurt him, he said. Jaehyun doesn’t know the details, doesn’t know exactly what happened, just guesses and vague ideas, but he knows he doesn’t want to be the guy that does that to Taeyong. He doesn’t want to hurt him, ever.

And that’s all he’s been doing all this while. Hurting him. Making him cry. He made Taeyong cry when he said those things. He made him cry on the phone with his sister. He’s been hurting him with dishonesty, he’s been keeping things from him when all Taeyong does is give Jaehyun everything.

He owes him honesty. He owes him strength, and courage, certainty and loyalty and love.

He doesn’t know for sure if that’s what he’s feeling. But he’s feeling a great deal more than just friends. He knows that. He’s been fighting it for so long. That fluttering in his stomach, he’s known it for so long. He should give Taeyong that much, but he thinks about it. He’s ready to accept it, for Taeyong, he can do that much. But he doesn’t want to confess before he’s anything less than sure. He’s ready to accept it, if it means he can stop hurting this beautiful man.

He wonders if this is really possible. Heart pounding in his ears. Is it okay to feel this?

He doesn’t know how, but he finds himself sitting on the edge of Taeyong’s bed.

“Hyung?” he says quietly, reaching out to rest his hand on Taeyong’s blanketed shoulder.

Taeyong stirs. “Hyunnie? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily.

“I’m hurting you, aren’t i?”

“What?”

“The way we are with each other, are you okay with it?”

“Yeah, of course. Why are you asking?”

Jaehyun pets his hair.

“I’m such an asshole to you,” he says quietly, pensively.

“Jaehyun what are you on about?”

“I know I can be a dick sometimes, but it’s because I’m still trying to figure things out. I don’t mean to hurt you, I need you to know that.”

Taeyong looks up at him, studying his face. “What brought this on?”

Jaehyun looks at him, and everything is communicated in silence. I know that I haven’t looked at you or talked to you in days. I know that I’ve been shutting you out, and I’m sorry.

Taeyong sits up slowly. He speaks, gently. “I understand you’re having a hard time, okay?” he says. “I’ve been having a hard time, too, I won’t lie. But that doesn’t mean you have to be the strong one, and you have to take care of me all the time and forget everything you’re going through. It’s okay if you get mad sometimes, it’s okay if you don’t like me sometimes, it’s bound to happen.”

“It’s not okay. I don’t want to be that guy,” Jaehyun says.

“What guy is this?”

“That makes you cry. I don’t want you to cry because of me.”

“Jaehyun, be quiet, come here,” Taeyong says, reaching out and pulling Jaehyun into a hug. “It’s okay, I’m happy. With you, I’m happy.”

“Are you?”

Taeyong hesitates, and that’s all Jaehyun needs to know how much he’s been hurting Taeyong. He wants to tell him the truth, but he doesn’t know how.

“I’m sorry about that, the other night. I’m sorry I was such an asshole. I don’t want you to force yourself, okay? That’s not what I meant. You know how it is with me, I say stupid things and I mean something else. You know I’m an idiot, and I can’t communicate very well, right?”

Taeyong smiles. “I know you’re an idiot.”

“There are things I need to say, hyung. I’ll stop getting mad and running away from you, okay? I’ll learn how to say them, and then I can stop hurting you.”

“Okay, Hyunnie,” Taeyong says softly. He sounds confused, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Take your time. Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? I understand it’s been difficult for you, too. I’ll always understand you, alright?”

 Jaehyun smiles, a lightness in his chest he still isn’t used to. He’s a little afraid of how Taeyong will react if he says all those things, and Taeyong finds out just how long he’s been lying to him, just how long he’s been making him suffer. But it’s okay, because Taeyong will understand. He’ll always understand Jaehyun.

Jaehyun leans all his weight on Taeyong and wraps his arms around him, and Taeyong falls backwards with Jaehyun on top of him.

“Jaehyun, fuck, you’re so heavy, get off,” he groans.

Jaehyun laughs and tightens his hold, and Taeyong grumbles, “Oh my fucking God, I can’t breathe. Hyunnie, you’re killing me, I hope you’re happy.”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” he says pulling back a little to look at Taeyong, and he’s talking about the rush of relief he felt when he fell into Taeyong’s bed.

Taeyong smiles at him. “You’ll really stop running? You’ll start talking to me about whatever’s bothering you?”

Jaehyun nods. “I’ll stop,” he says, and he’s the only one who knows exactly how much he means by that.

 

Morning comes. Things are good, normal, with Taeyong in his arms, the bed is warm again.

He’s still terrified. But he’ll handle this, because waking up to Taeyong’s sleeping face is something he’s not willing to give up. Because Taeyong really, truly, smiled at him last night, and that made him so happy.

The day drags on, and Jaehyun’s fear doesn’t go anywhere, because he’s pulled things out of forgotten corners of his mind and now he has to look at them, dare himself to really look at them. He’s picked at his scabs and now he’s bleeding, and it’s fucking frightening, but he handles it.

The things he does have meaning now. They always did, but he was too afraid to admit it. When they’re being driven to another music festival, and Jaehyun’s not even sure which one it is because he’s too sleep deprived and he’s thinking too hard about other things, he wills himself to reach out with one trembling hand and place it tentatively on Taeyong’s.

Taeyong head jerks up to look at him, and then down to their hands, evidently surprised at the contact after a week of being ignored. Jaehyun chants in his head, you’re holding his hand, because this is more than friends with benefits, forcing himself to look at what it means to do this, and it scares him. But then Taeyong smiles, and links their fingers together, and Jaehyun feels his fear slipping a little.

And that’s how the rest of the day goes. Jaehyun, you’re hugging him in an empty kitchen because you want to feel him close, because this is more than friends with benefits. You’re brushing his bangs out of his face because he’s just too cute right now, and what you’re feeling in your chest, that’s affection, because this is more than friends with benefits. You’re kissing him on the tip of his nose, because you want him to know you care, he deserves that, this is more, so much more.

When night comes, he’s in Taeyong’s bed again. Because he wants to be there to hold his hyung, because it helps Taeyong sleep better, because he cares, he cares, he likes him so much, there are things in his chest that were withered and dead but they’re coming back to life now, because he’s letting them. Everything he does has meaning, and he’s not hiding from that meaning anymore.

But he still can’t tell Taeyong. He won’t tell him before he’s sure, because what if he chickens out again? That would hurt Taeyong so much more. No, he won’t tell him yet. There’s a test coming. In a week or so they’re going home. The official end of Firetruck promotions, a three week break. Three weeks at home, with his parents. If this survives those three weeks, then it’s real, then it’s worth telling him about. No, he can’t tell Taeyong yet.

 

Taeyong sits on the couch, waiting for Jaehyun to return from wherever the hell he went. He doesn’t really remember, because he was only half paying attention when Jaehyun told him. He was too worried. Too distracted. The dorm is empty, eerily quiet, because all the other members have left already. It’s just him and Jaehyun staying an extra night, because Jaehyun told him he’s afraid to go home.

Days have passed since Jaehyun apologized for being such an asshole, since he promised him he’ll stop pushing him away, that he’ll learn how to communicate better. In those days, Jaehyun kept his promise, returning to his normal behavior. Sweet, friendly, fun. Taeyong is sure he doesn’t feel a damned thing for him, he’s convinced, despite his sister’s arguments. After everything that’s happened, after all the things Jaehyun has said, he’s convinced Jaehyun can’t love him. But he’s glad things are normal again, because he still needs Jaehyun in his life, still needs his touch.

And Taeyong is worried. Because in fourteen hours, Jaehyun will have to leave the dorm and head home. Home, where his parents are. Where Taeyong won’t be around to quiet his doubts with kisses, to answer his questions and tell him he’s perfect just the way he is.

He’s worried, because things between them were so uncertain, on the verge of ending, just a week ago. He’s worried that nothing will be the same when they come back, that they won’t survive this.

The front door opens, Jaehyun steps in, calling out a greeting, taking his shoes off.

Taeyong gets to his feet, his hands nervously toying with the hem of his t shirt. Jaehyun walks up to him with a smile, quickly pecking him on the cheek and starting to talk about something, but Taeyong isn’t paying attention.

 

Taeyong takes Jaehyun’s hands in his, pulls him close, places them on his waist. His own arms link around Jaehyun’s shoulders.

“Hyung?” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong leans in wordlessly. Jaehyun holds his breath. Their mouths meet tentatively, a gentle kiss, something more breathtaking than all the nights they tasted pleasure. Jaehyun doesn’t deepen it, content with this, the way it makes his heart flutter. His hands stay innocently perched on Taeyong’s waist, and Taeyong’s are perfect where they are, one on the back of his neck, one sliding into his hair. His chest is filled with everything he’s allowing himself to feel, and it’s beautiful, it’s the happiest he’s ever known himself to be.

Taeyong deepens the kiss first, parting his lips, and Jaehyun can’t help but roll his tongue to meet Taeyong’s, tasting the inside of his mouth. His hands slide down Taeyong’s back, but then he stops himself, and Taeyong breaks the kiss and looks at him with beautiful big eyes and he smiles. It still doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” he says. “I want you to.”

“Don’t lie,” Jaehyun says.

“I want to get over this,” Taeyong says. “I want it to be like before.”

“Taeyong hyung…”

“It’s okay,” Taeyong says, and he sounds perfectly calm.

“Just like before, huh?”

Taeyong nods.

Jaehyun bites his lip. He wants to make Taeyong’s smile light up his eyes, he wants him to laugh and playfully smack him, and he wants him to sink his teeth into Jaehyun’s lip and tease him, moan his name and give him everything. He wants it all back. He lets his hands slide over Taeyong’s ass, both hands cupping him gently.

“You know you have the perfect ass?” he says, squeezing lightly, trying to lift the mood. “Just right.”

Taeyong looks surprised, because of all the things Jaehyun could have said, all the wonderful, eloquent, thoughtful things he could have said, he chose to say that. He chuckles, his arms linking around Jaehyun’s neck. “I like yours better,” Taeyong says.

“Maybe I’ll let you have it someday,” Jaehyun whispers against the shell of Taeyong’s ear and the older pulls back and looks at him eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

“Really?” he says.

Jaehyun shrugs. “Someday,” he says, and Taeyong laughs again, his eyes bright, kisses him, lets him push him backwards to lie on the couch.

“Today, I want you, right here,” Jaehyun says, kneeling on the couch between Taeyong’s legs.

Taeyong feels a twist of nausea, the thin, sticky sheen of sweat forming on his skin, and he can feel himself slipping, but he’s okay. He has to do this, for himself, for Jaehyun, to keep Jaehyun. He pulls Jaehyun down on top of him, and his smell comforts him a little, faintly citrusy, familiar, calming his hammering heart.

Jaehyun smiles at him, and that comforts him too. He pushes Taeyong’s t shirt up slowly, exposing his abdomen, his chest. Taeyong closes his eyes, feels Jaehyun’s lips on his chest, closing around his nipple. He bites down on his lip, his hand tangling in Jaehyun’s hair. Soft hair, he reminds himself, not coarse. He’s okay.

A soft, shivering pleasure follows everywhere Jaehyun’s mouth goes, peppering kisses over his chest, sucking deep red marks all over his abdomen. That feels good, he’s okay.

“It’s okay right? You won’t get in trouble?” Jaehyun asks.

“It’s fine,” Taeyong breathes automatically.

Jaehyun’s mouth returns to his skin, and Taeyong gasps because his tongue licks a hot stripe over his belly, dipping into his navel.

“Sorry,” Jaehyun says softly. “Always wanted to do that.”

Taeyong laughs breathily. “It tickles,” he says, and Jaehyun continues dropping little kisses everywhere. That’s good, playful, comfortable. He’s okay.

Jaehyun’s hands are working on getting Taeyong’s jeans open. Taeyong lifts his hips a little, and Jaehyun pulls, the older helping him by kicking them off. He’s open, he feels terrifyingly vulnerable, but he’s okay. He’ll give in, he has to do this. He screws his eyes shut, and he’s trying to remember how to breathe, and then Jaehyun’s voice is reaching him.

“You look so good like this,” Jaehyun says.

That’s good, it’s Jaehyun. That deep, rich voice, not gravelly with age and cigarettes.

All his words and all his fear get stuck behind gritted teeth when Jaehyun suddenly laps at his arousal. Taeyong’s eyes are open now, he’s propping himself up on his elbows to take a good look at what Jaehyun is doing.

“Fuck,” he says, his mouth falling open as he watches Jaehyun’s tongue working wetly over his arousal.

 “I’ve never done this,” Jaehyun says. “Tell me what to do.”

“Jaehyunnie, Jesus,” he breathes.

Tell me what to do, he says. All the power is with him, because he gets to tell Jaehyun what to do. This is different, of course this is different.

Jaehyun curls his fingers around the base of Taeyong’s cock, guides him into his open mouth. Taeyong looks on in amazement, his heart pounding an erratic rhythm. He’s never done this, never put his mouth there, and it’s making Taeyong reel. This is different, this is so different.

His teeth catch a little, and Taeyong groans, “Baby, teeth,” he says, and Jaehyun releases his member because he needs to laugh, and as soon as his mouth is free he bursts into laughter.

“Sorry,” he says and he hides his face against the inside of Taeyong’s thigh and chuckles breathlessly.

“It’s fine,” Taeyong says, laughter in his voice too, his hand stroking Jaehyun’s cheek. They can laugh together, because they’re friends, because this is comfortable, because this is different and he’s okay.

“Let’s try again,” Jaehyun says, taking Taeyong in his hand once more, letting his mouth slide over it. Taeyong’s head tips back, because Jaehyun begins bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks and fuck that feels incredible.

“Jaehyun,” he moans. “You feel so good.”

Jaehyun’s tongue is running flat and warm over the underside, and he’s pulling Taeyong closer by the hips, draping his legs over his shoulders, mouth sliding slowly down, down, and Taeyong’s head is spinning. “Take it slow,” Taeyong breathes.

And Jaehyun does, he takes him as deep as he can go and then he swallows around him, and Taeyong bites down hard on his lip to keep himself from moaning lewdly. Jaehyun pulls back when he can’t take him anymore, pulls his mouth off and lets his hand work his length instead.

“Good?” he asks.

Taeyong nods in a daze. He’s so aroused now, not enough clarity in his mind to remember fear. Jaehyun is stretching his insides tight, showing him a pleasure that tugs gently at his gut.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong says. “Just… please I can’t. Just do it, please” Taeyong pleads, and the younger chuckles, crawling over Taeyong’s body to kiss him. He unbuckles his own belt, and Taeyong almost flinches at the sound, but he keeps himself together. Jaehyun pushes his jeans down far enough to free his arousal, lets Taeyong stroke him a few times with trembling hands before he pushes him away and reaches for the lube. He pushes one slick finger into him, and Taeyong’s body tenses up at the intrusion, but the weight of his past, the memory of what pain feels like, it’s all a distant dream, because Jaehyun is kissing him softly, Jaehyun is the here and now, Jaehyun is fucking perfect, and he won’t hurt him.

“You okay?” Jaehyun says, cupping his cheek.

“Gold,” Taeyong replies.

“Am I hurting you?”

Taeyong shakes his head. That’s right, Jaehyun will ask him if he’s okay, if he wants this, Jaehyun won’t hurt him. Taeyong finds his chest filling with a sort of warmth, and he wants to say Jaehyun, tell me you love me, make it all better, but he can’t say that. He finds himself telling Jaehyun to hurry up.

Two fingers later, Jaehyun is pushing into him, Taeyong’s legs draped over his arms, pushes till Taeyong’s body is almost folded in half and the older almost screams because he feels so full. This feels so fucking right, and he’s okay, still okay. Jaehyun waits for Taeyong to relax completely, and that’s driving the older crazy.

“Baby,” he breathes. “Move, please, please.”

Jaehyun smiles, something dazed, something lopsided, begins moving. Taeyong moans, uninhibited, because for some strange reason, it feels like today Jaehyun is looking at him, right at him, thinking of him and nothing else. It feels so intimate, like they’re perfect together, like they’ll last forever. All his trepidation is drifting away, and it feels like they’ll be okay even if Jaehyun goes home and faces his parents, they’ll be fine. They’ll still be just the way they are.

Friends with benefits, because Jaehyun doesn’t love him. He knows that now.

Jaehyun pushes one of Taeyong’s legs further out, and now he’s reaching deeper and Taeyong mewls.

“Jaehyun,” he moans, his head thrown back. “Oh god, Jaehyunnie.”

For the first time, Jaehyun moans his name, one breathless “Taeyong hyung, Tae, fuck, I missed this, I missed you.”

Oh god, Taeyong thinks, and he knows it’s a foolish thought, but he doesn’t mind. He’s looking at me, just me, he sees me.

Taeyong reaches up, pulls him down and hugs him tight, and somehow Jaehyun still manages to thrust into him, kiss him breathless. He leans his forehead against Taeyong’s, his eyes closed tight. He’s propping himself up on one elbow, stroking Taeyong with his free hand, and Taeyong’s hands are fisting against the upholstery, trying to find something to hold on to. It’s a beautiful, overwhelming crescendo, and Taeyong is trembling, dizzy, happy, safe. He’s okay, he’s okay.

“I’m close,” Jaehyun whispers, and Taeyong nods, some sort of indication that he’s close too, some sort of permission to come, come inside.

Jaehyun comes before him, and it’s his breathless moan in Taeyong’s ear that tips him over the edge too. He holds Jaehyun even tighter, ignoring the sticky mess between their bodies. He feels terribly drained, because all this time he’s been fighting back a paralyzing terror, the reach of his past, fighting back all his feelings for Jaehyun, all so he can experience this again, so he can make things right again.

 Slowly, Jaehyun pulls out, pulling his jeans up and zipping himself up. He pulls his t shirt off, balling it up and wiping the mess off Taeyong’s abdomen.

Taeyong makes a small sound in protest, but Jaehyun just shushes him and says “It’s already messed up.”

Taeyong just lies there and lets Jaehyun do whatever he wants because he doesn’t have the energy to move. Slowly, he reaches for his underwear, trying to pull it on without getting off the couch, and Jaehyun chuckles at him. Taeyong shoots a half-assed glare in his direction, considers putting his jeans on, and settles back on the couch having decided it isn’t worth the effort.

“Laziest man alive,” Jaehyun teases.

“Shut up, Hyunnie.”

Jaehyun settles down beside him, kisses him gently. Taeyong looks at him, all porcelain skin and black hair, all the magic of the stars and the sun. He finds himself bittersweet in the afterglow. He has him, he has him, but not really. He gets to see that lovelorn smile, that gentle gaze, but he can’t have him. He doesn’t know how he thought Jaehyun could love him.

“You’re really the prettiest, hyung,” he says, and Taeyong smiles bitterly. At least he has this, he thinks.

“You know I would have fucked you right here, that night, if Taeil hyung hadn’t fucked up the mood.”

Taeyong laughs, flushes in embarrassment. “God what were we thinking,” he says, eager to make conversation, to make things normal. “Imagine if he saw us, like how the fuck would we even have explained that situation. Oh yeah, hyung, just casually half naked on the couch with Jaehyun’s fingers in my ass.”

“I don’t know, maybe we could have asked him to join us.”

Taeyong looks at him, positively appalled. “Jung Jaehyun,” he says. “I don’t want to fuck Taeil hyung.”

“What? Why not? Taeil hyung’s a sexy beast.”

“Are you saying _you_ want to?”

“Yeah, I’d do him,” Jaehyun says.

Taeyong’s mouth falls open, and he wants to say something but words are failing him.

The corners of Jaehyun’s mouth twitch, laughter peeking through despite all his best efforts to keep a straight face.

“You’re kidding?” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun can’t hold it back anymore. He bursts into laughter, and Taeyong shakes his head solemnly.

“You’re a bad person,” he says. “Dissing Taeil hyung like that, tsk tsk.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, still chuckling. “It’s funny because he’s so asexual.”

Taeyong gives him a disapproving look, and Jaehyun responds with a “Hey, you’re the one that said you wouldn’t fuck him.”

“That means I respect him as a hyung. It doesn’t mean he isn’t fuckable.”

“Really? It has nothing to do with cheerleader Taeyomi?”

Taeyong grimaces. “Oh god,” he says. “I forgot about that.”

Jaehyun laughs, and Taeyong catches himself thinking it’s the prettiest laugh he knows. The dimple in the side of his cheek, that’s for everyday smiles. But when he laughs, truly laughs, there are these two little whisker dimples he gets and Taeyong doesn’t know if anyone else has noticed that, but he has. It’s the prettiest thing.

This is perfect, he thinks, perfect, comfortable, this feels like he imagined it would. At least he has this. He watches as Jaehyun’s expression softens, as he reaches out to stroke Taeyong’s cheek.

“And anyway,” Jaehyun says. “You’re not allowed to think Taeil hyung is fuckable.”

“I’m not allowed?” Taeyong says, raising an eyebrow.

“You have me,” he replies hesitantly.

Something happens inside Taeyong, and it feels like fireworks, because he lights up for a fraction of a second, and then he realizes those words don’t mean what he hopes they mean, just pretty lights that last for a moment, and he’s left in darkness again. Taeyong opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he’s afraid his mouth will betray him and he’ll say something like Jaehyun, you’re not allowed to say things like that, because I can’t take it, because I’m in love with you and don’t say these things because you don’t mean them, because I’ve been in love with you forever and I can’t fucking take it.

He swallows thickly.

Jaehyun is studying his face, looking for a reaction, and they’re looking at each other and Taeyong’s heart is pounding in his ears because suddenly he’s afraid that Jaehyun knows. He knows, and he doesn’t love him back, and if Taeyong slips up right now, if he fucks up and says something he can’t take back, then they’re done. Jaehyun is going to leave, because they’re supposed to be just friends.

 “Say it,” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong’s heart stops, because fuck. He knows. Taeyong can’t find his voice.

He knows. Does he know, just how much Taeyong loves him? He knows, he must know.

“Have you known all along?” Taeyong asks hesitantly.

Jaehyun nods.

Taeyong is afraid, but underneath his fear he feels something else flaring red and ugly. He feels betrayed, angry, so fucking angry. He knows. And he still fucked Taeyong, still told him a thousand times that they’re just friends. He feels used, like Jaehyun has been taking advantage of his feelings for so fucking long. All those times he cared for Taeyong like a lover would, was he just dangling a carrot?

“You remember after all? The first time we kissed, you remember everything?”

“Yeah.”

Taeyong sits up, looks at Jaehyun and he can’t stop his eyes from filling with frustrated tears.

He moves to get off the couch, but Jaehyun’s hand curls around Taeyong’s arm, pulls him gently towards himself, wraps his arms around Taeyong’s waist to hold him close.

“You’re an asshole, Jaehyun,” Taeyong says, not even trying to fight his tears anymore. “You fucking knew. One fucking week ago you looked me right in the eye and told me we’re just friends and you’re tired of dealing with my shit, and it hurt so much but I fixed everything, I gave you what you wanted, fucking friends with benefits. Now you want me to… I… fuck you. Were you playing with me? Is it funny, did you have a good laugh? Am I…”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says. “I’m a coward.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Taeyong says, trying to pry Jaehyun’s arms off his body so he can get up and leave before he falls apart. Jaehyun buries his face in Taeyong’s neck, not brave enough to look him in the eye and say I know what I put you through, and it didn’t have to happen, if I were braver, you would have been happier.

“Hyung, I feel so much for you,” he says, and Taeyong freezes. “How do I even… I was afraid, hyung. It was difficult enough to come to terms with feeling something sexual towards you. I didn’t know what to do, I was so afraid, the idea of being with you, belonging to you, I was just scared.”

“Jaehyun, don’t fucking…”

“Listen to me. I’m not lying to you, I’m not playing games, I’m trying to be honest. I took care of you because I wanted to, I wanted you to be happy, because that makes me happy. And when I did that for you, made you smile, and I realized how happy that made me, I started to think maybe it’s more than just desire. I was confused and scared, hyung. I kept acting like an asshole because I got scared of how much I care for you. What do I do, hyung. Is it okay to want this, too? Is it okay to want to be with a boy forever?”

“To be with…”

Jaehyun tightens his arms around Taeyong. “I don’t want to be a coward anymore. I don’t want to do this to you. I know you probably don’t believe me after all the shit I put you through, but I’ll prove it to you. Once I go home, and I see my parents, and tell them, and I know I can stand up to them, we can talk about it then if you like. And if you and I want this, and if we think we can make it happen, we’ll do it. Wait for me, hyung, please, just wait a little longer and I’ll show you. I won’t hurt you anymore.”

“Jaehyun, I… I, God,” Taeyong says, struggling to put words together. He can’t believe this is happening. He can’t believe this is so close to being real.

“I know,” Jaehyun says. “Come here.”

Jaehyun kisses him, softly, but that’s not enough for Taeyong because his heart is bursting out of his chest and he needs Jaehyun to hold him close because he might just slip away. He rolls on top of him, straddles his hips, kisses him deeply. Jaehyun sighs into the kiss, groans when Taeyong’s hips grind down on him. His hands reach out to still Taeyong’s movements, whispering “Hyung, you’ll get me hard again.”

“Then you’ll just have to fuck me again,” Taeyong breathes, kissing him harder.


	14. Chapter 14

They’re lying in bed now, naked, warm under the covers. Soon after the second round they decided it was too cold in the living room and moved into the bedroom. Jaehyun has his arms wrapped around Taeyong when he feels him squirming, moving to get out of bed.

“Hyung where are you going?” he asks, pulling him back.

“To the bathroom,” Taeyong says flatly.

“But I want to hold you,” Jaehyun says, and he doesn’t mean to sound so clingy, but really he wants as much of Taeyong as he can get before he has to go home.

“You can hold me when I come back,” Taeyong says, laughing.

“Oh ye of tiny bladder. Go, pee, live your life,” he retorts, releasing his hold on Taeyong.

Taeyong huffs, rolling over to face the younger. “Jaehyun, you jackass. I don’t have to pee. You just came inside me. Twice. Did you forget?”

Jaehyun looks at him, a little confused.

“I don’t really want it to… stay there?” Taeyong says.

“So what are you going to do?”

“You can’t be serious,” he says, a small incredulous smile on his lips, slowly morphing into a full laugh. “Oh my god, you’re serious. Okay. Some things involving warm water… this is getting too weird.”

“Oh shit. Okay. Okay?” Jaehyun says, and he sounds fascinated. “Do you do that every time we…”

“Well, yeah, I mean if you come inside… yeah. And if I know we’re going to have sex, then I do it once before, too,” Taeyong says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah it’s pretty gross, otherwise isn’t it?”

“I guess, yeah that’s kind of gross.”

“Jaehyunnie, how is this only occurring to you now?” Taeyong says, clearly unable to hold back his laughter.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I mean I knew you must… uh, clean up for me and stuff, but I never really gave it much thought. That sounds like so much work, hyung, Jesus.”

“The things I do for you,” Taeyong says. “I even tried to get you condoms. Do you know how hard it is to buy condoms when you’re famous? You don’t appreciate me enough.”

“I do,” Jaehyun says softly, pulling Taeyong close. “I appreciate everything you do, hyung.”

He kisses Taeyong gently, his hand sliding down his torso, down to grip at his hipbone.

“I’m so grateful to you,” Jaehyun whispers, kissing his neck, the hand on his hip slowly sliding somewhere less innocent.

“Hyunnie,” Taeyong breathes.

Jaehyun hums against his skin.

“Can you be grateful in the morning, please? I’m tired.”

Jaehyun bursts into laughter, hiding his face in Taeyong’s neck.

“Fine,” he says, rolling off Taeyong. “Clean up and come back soon old man. I still want to hold you.”

“You’re such a sap,” Taeyong says, smiling and getting out of bed before Jaehyun can see the faint red in his cheeks.

 

It’s early, and Jaehyun wakes up to a near naked Taeyong in his arms. He groans, because that’s hot, really hot, and somehow sweet in light of everything they shared just hours ago.  He’s still coming to terms with the fact that he told Taeyong what he was feeling. He wasn’t planning on it, but in that moment it felt so right, and he really, really wanted Taeyong to trust him, for that strange sort of melancholy to disappear from his eyes, and he’d just said it. He’s happy he did, because he feels liberated in ways he can’t begin to fathom, like saying it out loud was the final step in letting him commit to it completely. He remembers the disbelief, the happiness in Taeyong’s eyes, the unadulterated emotion in his kisses. He feels good. This feels good.

His hand trails down Taeyong’s side absent mindedly, and he hears a content hum, but Taeyong doesn’t move a muscle. Jaehyun smiles.

He presses a soft kiss to Taeyong’s bare shoulder. “You’re awake,” he says softly, and Taeyong hums again.

“Hyung,” he whispers. “You’re naked, I’m naked, you know what we should do?”

“Shut up and go back to sleep?” Taeyong mumbles.

Jaehyun chuckles. “Are you still tired, old man?”

Taeyong nods, his eyes still closed, not even bothering to argue.

Jaehyun laughs, shifts a little, presses soft little kisses to the nape of Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong squirms.

“Tickles,” he mumbles.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun whispers. Taeyong hums. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, but he wants to say I’m scared, I don’t want to go home, I want to stay here forever, like this forever. But he doesn’t say it. He’ll be the brave one now. He’ll show Taeyong that he can do it for both of them, that he’ll never make him cry again. He’ll handle this, because he owes it to Taeyong, because if he keeps treating Taeyong like he did before, he’ll leave.

“Hyunnie,” Taeyong says softly. “You want to try cuddle fucking?”

Jaehyun laughs, wondering if Taeyong heard the apprehension in his voice, if he's as see through as he always is around Taeyong. “My god, you’re such a lazy old fuck,” he says instead.

“Jaehyun, call me old again and you’re not getting anywhere near this ass.”

“Fine, fine,” Jaehyun says laughing. “What do you want me to do?”

And Taeyong just presses further into the younger, tells him what he needs. Soon they’re curled together, Taeyong’s back pressed to Jaehyun’s chest, his smaller body fitting perfectly against Jaehyun’s, and Jaehyun rocks into him gently, tucking his chin onto Taeyong’s shoulder, holding him securely with an arm wound around his waist. They come apart slowly, breathlessly. In those moments after his release, Jaehyun finds himself calm. Brave. Gratitude wells deep inside him, for Taeyong, for his singular ability to give Jaehyun exactly what he needs.

He’s glad he told him. He didn’t say the words, but Taeyong understands now, that Jaehyun does feel for him. He’ll say the actual words later, he decides. He’ll say it when he earns the right to, when he proves to himself that he’ll never hurt Taeyong with his cowardice again.

 

Taeyong kisses him softly on the cheek. They’re standing by the front door. Jaehyun’s cab is waiting downstairs.

“You’re worrying,” Jaehyun says.

“I am,” Taeyong replies.

“We’re going to different parts of the same city. Literally an hour and a half from your house. Stop freaking out,” Jaehyun says softly, unsure if he’s telling Taeyong that or telling himself.

“You’re really telling them?” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun nods. “Should I come with you? Do you want to do this together?” Taeyong asks.

“No,” Jaehyun says. “I’ll do this. At the end of the break, so that way even if it goes south I won’t have to spend three awkward weeks with them.”

Taeyong cracks a smile. “You’re sure? Hyunnie, there’s no rush, okay? If you’re doing this for me, I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this yet, if you’re not rea…”

“You said all that last night,” Jaehyun says with a chuckle. “Calm down. I’m going to be fine. I’m going to call you everyday, okay?”

Taeyong nods hesitantly. He knows the strain behind Jaehyun’s smile, he understands that his nonchalance must be his attempts at making the mood lighter.

“Call,” he says. And just to help Jaehyun laugh, he adds “Phone sex.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “Phone sex,” he concurs. “Bye hyung.”

Despite the lightness of their goodbye, there’s worry lying heavy in the air. It’s in the little things. That Jaehyun nuzzled against Taeyong’s cheek that morning and whispered, hyung, I wish I could see you like this every morning. He meant hyung, it’s this face and this warmth and your voice and your laugh that makes me brave. Taeyong laughed dismissively, but he still took Jaehyun’s phone and made him a cheesy talkshow-esque video message.

Hyunnie, be strong, he said. Fighting, he said and then he made a terribly ugly kissy face at the screen. Jaehyun burst into laughter and leaned over and kissed the pout off his face. It was all right there in his phone, one small video with the face that makes his heart beat faster, the kiss that turned his life upside down, the beautiful man that made him honest, made him discover himself, made him better. The man he’s gone and fallen in love with. In love, he thinks, the words rolling on his tongue like some sort of fine wine. He tastes them, slowly discovering the many, many layers of meaning in them.

He leaves without ceremony, just a quick peck, a hug that lingers too long, and then he’s gone.

 

 It’s been four days since they left the dorm. Taeyong sits at the breakfast table with his mother, pushing soggy cereal around in his bowl, staring absently at his phone. There was one text from Jaehyun, letting him know that he’s fine, telling him not to worry, and when Taeyong texted back, Jaehyun didn’t reply.

Jaehyun hasn’t called since. 

 

Taeyong is idling in his room, imbibing the warmth of his bed despite the fact that it’s late afternoon at this point. His parents are at work, and he’s alone at home, wrapped up in the familiar silence and emptiness of his home. He’s thinking hard, wondering if he should be scared that Jaehyun just sort of disappeared. He’s called him, so many times, and it’s always the same. Jaehyun doesn’t answer. The first few times there was a text saying hyung, can’t talk right now, I’ll call you later. But he never does.

Now the texts have stopped, too. Should he be worried, he wonders. Is he safe? Is he okay? Taeyong’s head hurts just thinking about it.

My dad, he tried to beat it out of me, Jaehyun said, all those months ago. The words loop in his head incessantly.

Taeyong is worried sick. He thinks perhaps he should just go over to Jaehyun’s place, just to see if he’s alright. Is that too much, he wonders. Is that in his place?

Perhaps not, he thinks. Perhaps he should call him again. He picks up his phone, tries calling, and a monotonous ringing fills his ears. Ringing, ringing, ringing. And then that prerecorded message telling him what he already knows, like some sort of mockery, Jaehyun isn’t answering his calls.

He swallows thickly.

He types out a message.

Baby, I’m worried. Just text, if you can’t talk. I need to know you’re okay.

A few moments pass in silence before his phone lights up with a reply.

I’m fine, hyung.

Taeyong’s fingers hover over the screen. He types out another message. Why can’t you talk then, he types, and spends a minute staring at the words on his screen. He deletes it without sending it, thinking perhaps he doesn’t really want to know the answer.

Great, he says instead. Call me whenever you can, I miss your voice.

A few more moments, and then Jaehyun’s reply rests cold and brief on his screen. Kay, hyung, it says.

He feels a little disappointed. He was hoping for Jaehyun to tell him he missed him, too. To say aww, hyung you’re so cute when you’re like this. To somehow calm his fears, but Jaehyun just leaves him an acknowledgment. He’s still worried.

Somewhere deep inside him there’s a different terror taking root. What if Jaehyun lied to him, he wonders. What if he doesn’t feel anything for him, and just said what he had to say to keep Taeyong close? What if he isn’t calling because he doesn’t want to, not because he can’t? He quiets that small voice, pushes it away, reminds himself that he trusts Jaehyun.

 

Ten days have passed, and Jaehyun gives him nothing. He’s growing hopeless. He asks Jaehyun if he’s okay, if he wants Taeyong to come over. Jaehyun says no, he’s fine. The next day, he tells Jaehyun he’s coming over, and Jaehyun responds frantically, decisively. No, hyung, don’t, he says. Don’t come here, please. Taeyong agrees helplessly, feeling unwanted, his advice and his comfort unsolicited.

That night he dreams, he dreams of Jaehyun’s face twisted with malice and glee, the face of one who got away with a cruel joke, and he wakes with a start. That familiar terror seeps into his bones. He must have been lying, he thinks. How stupid of him to believe that Jaehyun could love him. He feels tears stinging his eyes, and blinks them back.

No, he thinks. He trusts Jaehyun.

He picks up his phone and he calls his sister.

“Noona,” he breathes when his sister answers sleepily. “I feel like shit.”

“What’s wrong?” she says. “Did you dream again?”

“I did,” Taeyong replies. “But not about that. This was… weird. Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

His sister waits for him to say something else, and he thinks somewhere in the silence he hears patience strained. She sighs. “What happened, Yongie?” she asks quietly.

“I’m fucked up, right?” Taeyong says. “Something he needs to handle? Like broken bits of something… I’m too fucked up to love, right? I’m just, I don’t know, just…”

“Shut up, Taeyong,” his sister says firmly. “You’re a wonderful person, and you deserve all the love in the world. We’ve been over this. Something bad happened to you, that doesn’t mean you’re fucked up or tainted or not worth loving, it just means that man was an asshole. That’s it, okay?”

Taeyong stays silent. “Okay?” she asks again.

“He said he’d call every day, noona. He hasn’t called, he won’t talk to me,” he says childishly.

“Jaehyun?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “I’m starting to feel like everything he said was a lie.”

There’s silence for a beat.

“Do you love him?” she asks.

“I do.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I… do,” he says, and he sounds as unsure as he feels. His sister misses the hesitation.

“Taeyong, your break ends in another week, right?” she says. “Just trust him, for this one week. Maybe he’s going through something right now. You said his parents are fucked up, right? Maybe something’s wrong at home and he can’t tell you about it now. Just wait another week and he’ll come back. You guys can talk about it then, right?”

Taeyong hums.

“Lee Taeyong. Stop thinking. Everything will be fine, just trust him.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll trust him for now.”

 

 

Taeyong’s phone buzzes, and he reaches for it with a resigned hope, perhaps it’s Jaehyun. He’s in his room again, in an empty house, and the vibration of his phone against the nightstand is the only sound cutting through the silence. He picks up the phone, turns it over to look at it, and his heart leaps into his throat because the name on the screen is Honey pig, and that’s Jaehyun, and what is he supposed to do?

He answers, and he’s a little embarrassed by the way Jaehyun’s voice makes him melt.

“Hyung?” he says, and there's something miserable about the way he says it.

“Jaehyunnie,” he breathes, relief evident in his voice. “Where have you been?”

“Hyung are you at home?”

“Yeah, I am,” Taeyong replies.

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come over? I miss you, can I come over, please, I want you," he says, a sort of desperation Taeyong has never heard from Jaehyun before.

Taeyong’s heart is pounding. Jaehyun misses him, of course he’d miss him, he has feelings for him, he was telling the truth. “Sure, Hyunnie,” he says.

“Wait for me,” Jaehyun says.

And Taeyong does, curled up in bed, waiting for the bell to ring. He’s so excited, because he gets to see Jaehyun and touch him again after almost two weeks of nothing. He’s impatient. He’s anxious because he wants explanations as much as he wants to be held. An hour and eight minutes tick by before his house echoes with the sound of the doorbell. He gets out of bed hurriedly, rushes to the door, his hand fumbling impatiently with the lock. The door swings open, and Jaehyun is standing there in his doorway, the broad frame he missed so much, the soft dimples in his smile. He looks tired, somehow, the skin around his eyes is an unhealthy grey and his cheeks don’t have the same soft contour he’s used to.

Jaehyun steps forward.

“Still no one home, right?” he says.

Taeyong shakes his head.

Jaehyun steps in, wraps an arm around Taeyong’s waist and pulls him close, slamming the door shut behind him. His mouth finds Taeyong’s before Taeyong has a chance to speak, and all he gets out is a muffled moan. He kisses Jaehyun back fervently, he missed this, he’s glad Jaehyun hasn’t forgotten about him.

“Bedroom?” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong nods, grabs his hand and pulls him into his room. Jaehyun locks the door, the click too loud in that small, quiet space. Their bodies come together again, something desperate about the way they kiss, and Jaehyun tugs at Taeyong’s t shirt unapologetically.

Taeyong wants to talk, he wants to ask how Jaehyun has been, where he has been, how’s home, why didn’t he call. But they can talk later, he figures. Right now he wants Jaehyun, and it’s clear Jaehyun wants him.

They undress quickly, and Jaehyun pushes him into bed, it’s desperate, rushed because they don’t want to take the time to muck about with the little pleasures, they want the whole thing. Taeyong writhes in his sheets with Jaehyun’s fingers inside him, there just long enough for it not to hurt when Jaehyun enters him, nothing teasing, nothing but preparation. They make do with lotion, because Taeyong doesn’t have lube here.

Jaehyun moves Taeyong around like a doll, has him exactly how he wants him, his knees digging into the mattress, his arms bracing him against the wall, and Jaehyun grips his hip and eases into him. Taeyong groans, he’s missed this. Jaehyun wraps an arm around his waist, and begins moving. It’s good, really good, but it’s all happening too quickly. Taeyong wants to slow down a little, savor it, but Jaehyun seems too frustrated to be able to take it slow, so he lets him continue at that pace. He figures there’s always time for round two.

He can feel Jaehyun’s chest pressed against his back, his breath against the shell of his ear, and it’s too hot, too much for Taeyong to take.

“I’m close,” he whispers, but Jaehyun is too far gone. Taeyong takes himself in his hand and strokes. Jaehyun comes first, filling him with heat, and then Taeyong releases over his hand, his wall. It’s good, it feels good, not as incredible as he had hoped, but there’s always time for round two, he reminds himself.

Jaehyun eases out, collapses into Taeyong’s bed. And Taeyong slowly turns away from the wall, crawling over to Jaehyun.

He cuddles up to Jaehyun, asking for a kiss, and Jaehyun smiles and kisses him, wraps his arms around him and holds him close and kisses him some more. But then Jaehyun’s phone rings, and he reaches over the side of the bed to fish his phone out of his jeans pocket.

He looks at the screen, and Taeyong can’t really see the whole name. Yu something.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun breathes, and moves away from Taeyong, sitting up, getting out of bed.

“Jaehyun, what…”

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says.

“What happened?” Taeyong asks, but Jaehyun isn’t paying attention. He’s hurriedly picking up his clothes, getting dressed.

Taeyong is watching him, slowly reaching out to pull his pajamas back on.

“Hyung where’s my coat?” Jaehyun asks.

“You pulled it off in the living room,” he says.

“Right,” Jaehyun says, unlocking the door and stepping out into the hallway. Taeyong stares at the open door in a kind of daze for a few seconds, and then he gets out of bed too, follows Jaehyun out. He finds him in the living room, pulling his coat on, and he opens his mouth to ask what’s happening, but Jaehyun looks up, smiles and says “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye,” Taeyong says absently, and he doesn’t quite register Jaehyun pulling him in for a hug, squeezing him tight, and whispering in his ear before leaving. It happens so quickly, and it isn’t until a minute after the front door slams shut that Jaehyun’s words sink in. Don’t call or text, he said. I’ll explain later, but just don’t call for the next couple of days.

He’s left standing in his empty living room feeling terribly used, worthless, dirty.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of non-consensual sex in this chapter.

Jaehyun hurries out of Taeyong’s building, desperately pulling his mask and hood on, one hand up and hailing a cab and the other is dialing Yongsun’s number.

“Hey,” he says, when he hears his friend’s worried voice on the other end of the line. “What did you tell her?”

“I said we're at the mall, you were trying some clothes on, and you’d call her when you’re done,” Yongsun says.

“You’re a life saver, you know that?” Jaehyun breathes, settling into the backseat of a cab. He mumbles out his home address to the cab driver and then returns to his phone call. “What do we do? Conference call?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Yongsun replies. “You call her.”

Jaehyun agrees, thankful for the fact that his mother is a little technologically challenged, and wouldn’t suspect a damned thing. He calls his mother, adds Yongsun to the call, and he says “Hey, mom, Yongsun said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Where are you?” she says, suspicion clear in her voice.

“We’re at the mall,” Jaehyun replies.

“You’re with Yongsun?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, surprised by how steady his voice sounds.

“I don’t believe you,” she says. “Put him on the phone.”

“Sure,” Jaehyun says, and there’s a beat of silence and then Yongsun speaks.

“Hello, eomonim,” Yongsun’s voice says.

“Ah, Yongsun-ah. Where are you two?” she says, and there’s relief in her voice.

“We’re at the mall, we’re just about to leave,” Yongsun replies.

“Jaehyun was with you the entire time?”

“Yes, ma’am, except when he had to try on clothes. Is something wrong?” he says, and Jaehyun almost laughs at the innocent concern in his friend’s voice. Bravo, Yongsun, he thinks. You should become an actor.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she says. “Alright, Yongsun, just hand the phone back to Jaehyun.”

“Sure,” he says.

“Yeah, mom?” Jaehyun says again.

“Come home. Now.”

“I’m on my way,” he mumbles.

The minute the call ends, Jaehyun texts Yongsun.

Thanks fucker, you’re the best friend a guy could ask for, he says.

A moment passes before his screen lights up with the words, _whatever gayboy. Next time we go drinking, you’re buying. And bring your boyfriend._

Jaehyun smiles, a fondness in his heart for his friend of eleven years.

His boyfriend, he said.

He types out a message to Taeyong. Hyung, he says. Just hold on for a couple of days. I'll make you proud of me.

He leans back into the seat, closes his eyes. He’s so fucking glad he went to see Taeyong. The courage, the relief it gives him just to see his face. Everything falls into perspective the moment he kisses Taeyong, the moment he holds his beautiful body and lets him drown them in pleasure, everything makes sense. It reminds him, that if it feels so fucking right, it can’t be wrong. That this is who he is. This is what he wants.

He thinks back to the shit he’s been through these past couple of weeks, and he’s a little ashamed to admit that his resolve was shaken in those first few days he spent at home. That sudden change in atmosphere. From being in the warm, safe, protected bubble of Taeyong’s arms, his patience, his kindness, to this. His home. His father, the memory of the weight of his palm, his fist, his anger. That conditional love.

The day he came home, they had dinner together as a family. All three of them sitting at the table together, and for the first time, Jaehyun felt fucking uncomfortable in his own home. His smile was too tight, too forced, too full of shit. His father patted his back after dinner and said “Son, I’m so proud of you.”

Jaehyun almost laughed at that, because he remembered nights when that same man told him he was ashamed to call him his son. That’s hilarious, he thought, because I haven’t changed, I’ve just hidden better. He smiled bitterly.

What a crock of shit, he thought, glad that his father would be leaving the following day for some ten day business trip.

He texted Taeyong that night, telling him not to worry, that he’s fine. He was determined not to let Taeyong know that he was miserable, and he needed to be held. He was determined to be strong for Taeyong. That night, he fell asleep watching that little video on repeat.

Be strong, Hyunnie, fighting! That silly pout, and then his own laughter, his own face leaning into the frame, his hand reaching out to cup Taeyong’s cheek, turning him and kissing him. He could almost feel the press of Taeyong’s lips on his own. He could almost hear that soft hum of satisfaction. He watched Taeyong’s lips part and a pink flash of tongue before Taeyong gave up and dropped the phone and the screen went black.

Again, and again.

 

He struggled, he remembers, ashamed now of his own weakness. He struggled because it was too difficult to do it by himself. That house held memories, of violence, of misery, of hurt, because the people he loved told him he was all wrong. He couldn’t help but let it sink into his skin, he couldn’t help it when all the same feelings took hold of him in his room alone at night.

But he was still determined not to scare Taeyong with his own doubts. He refused to answer his calls, he just wouldn’t, because if he did, he’d cry and cry and tell him how afraid he was, and hurt him even more, and he fucking refused. He still let him know he was fine, so he wouldn’t worry. He’d been hurting him long enough. It was time to man the fuck up, handle his own problems.

 

It was a few days in, that things truly took a nose dive.

Jaehyun left his phone on his nightstand when he went to shower. When he came back, his mother was in his room, fiddling about with dusting his shelves, and his phone screen was lit up. There was a text on the screen from Taeyong-hyung, and it said Jaehyunnie, I miss you. He remembers the panic closing his throat, wondering if she’d seen. She didn’t say a word, just left quietly.

A few hours later, she sat him down and told him she’d pack his bags for him, and he should leave as soon as possible. He remembers swallowing thickly, asking what the hell she was talking about. She looked at him with something between pity and disgust, and she told him she saw everything. That she saw the text, and then she got suspicious and checked his phone, and then she saw the video, too.

His heart hammered, he remembers, so hard, before he reminded himself that nothing was lost. He meant to tell them, anyway. “How did you unlock my phone?” he asked, when he was sure his voice would come out steady.

She blinked at him. “Is that what you should be worried about now?” she said.

“I’m not leaving yet,” he said, shocked at his calmness. “I’m staying till dad comes back. I’m going to talk to him, and then if you two still want me to leave, I will.”

“What?” she said, equally shocked, if not more. He was slightly amused with himself at this point, because of all the things to be feeling, he felt satisfaction. The look on her face, the disbelief that her bullshit wasn’t working on him, that made him want to laugh, gave him the courage to keep talking.

“I’m gay,” he said. “I’m sorry if that hurts you, I really am. But this is me.”

He wished so hard that Taeyong could have heard him say that. He remembers wishing that Taeyong was there, not to hold him and take care of him and kiss his uncertainty away, but to hear him stand up for himself.

His mother let out a shocked sob. “You’re not even ashamed anymore,” she said.

“I’m not,” he replied. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before it bloomed into its full glory. He wasn’t ashamed anymore, he realized, and he said it again. “I’m not ashamed.”

“Why won’t you change?” she cried. “We tried so hard, why won’t you change?”

“Why should I?” he replied.

“Your father is going to kill you.”

Jaehyun’s smile slipped a little. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not afraid of him,” he said softly, but he didn’t really buy it. His mother was easier to deal with. His father, he could hurt him… the memory of his fist, his palm, his anger.

“Stop talking to that boy,” his mother said. “Just listen to me, this isn’t you. He’s got you all confused, stop talking to him.”

“I won’t,” Jaehyun said.

“I’ll tell everyone he’s gay. That’ll destroy everything, he’ll be ruined. Do you want me to do that?”

Jaehyun froze. “You wouldn’t,” he said. He hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t meant to bring Taeyong into this. He panicked. What the hell was he supposed to do now? His wonderful hyung, he knew just how hard Taeyong had worked for his dreams to come true. He knew, he was there every step of the way.

“Stop talking to him, or I swear to you I’ll spread the word,” she said, her voice dangerously serious.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t hurt Taeyong anymore. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t take his dreams away from him.

“Mom, I work with him. I can’t just stop talking to him,” he tried to say.

“For the next couple of weeks at least. Just stop. You need distance from him, you’ll see, if you just spend some time with your family you’ll understand what’s right. You’re just confused, Jaehyun,” she said.

He stared at her. She’d do it, wouldn’t she, he thought. She would never understand. She’d ruin someone’s life just to prove a point, to make me unhappy, she’d fuck up my life and Taeyong’s. He stared at her tear stained face for a long moment, frantically looking for a way out.

“Okay,” he said, and it tasted like hatred on his tongue. It tasted like the end of everything he held dear.

“Give me your phone,” she said victoriously. Jaehyun’s stomach lurched, ashamed of being her son.

“Okay.”

 

Jaehyun spent days in his room, unable to sleep, unable to eat, just waiting, waiting for his dad to come home from his shitty business trip so he could get it over with and get the fuck out of there. He found that he hated his mother with a new sort of fury, somewhere deep inside, black and twisted, he hated her. She had done this before, he realized. But back then, he didn’t find it so repulsive. That was before he knew how truly kind people could be, before he knew he could be accepted just the way he is, before he loved Taeyong.

He missed Taeyong. He wanted to hold him so bad, just hide his face in his neck and fall asleep in his arms. He wanted to at least be able to watch that video, just to help him sleep. He even missed reading his worried texts, just something to show him that Taeyong was out there waiting for him to come back. Without any means of communication, without anything to soothe his doubts, he was weak. He felt helplessly, miserably, stuck, suffocated.

It wasn’t until Yongsun showed up unannounced at their doorstep that Jaehyun found himself able to breathe. The doorbell rang, and his mother went to answer it.

“Yongsun-ah!” her voice rang out through the hall, and Jaehyun’s heart lifted, soared, because his best friend was here.

“Eomonim, is your son here? I mean he has days off and he doesn’t even call me or meet me, this brat, I think the fame is getting to him,” he joked. His familiar impertinence felt like air in Jaehyun’s lungs. He jumped out of bed, ran to the door.

“Hi,” he said stupidly and Yongsun grinned at him, tackling him into a bear hug. It was Yongsun who convinced his mother to let him leave the house for a little while. It was his best friend, who managed to convince that _bitch_ to let him breathe. And it wasn’t like she could tell him why she wanted Jaehyun to stay home. She couldn’t very well say I’m trying to house-arrest him into being straight, because guess what, my son is a fucking fruitcake. No, no. Nobody should ever find out that her son, bearer of the Jung family name, is gay.

So she agreed, gave him his phone back, too. Just for that afternoon.

A few minutes after he left the house, he cried. They were walking along some back alley and he couldn’t help it, he just couldn’t. He cried like a child and told Yongsun his parents were abusive assholes and they had been for years. He left out the parts that detailed when and why his father would hit him. But he told him he needed to get the fuck out of that house, and he was so glad Yongsun came.

Yongsun listened in shocked silence, because he’d never seen Jaehyun like that. And when his tears ran dry, he threw an arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders and said “You know you could have told me this before, you dumbass. Maybe you would have saved yourself some of the pain.”

Jaehyun swallowed thickly, swallowed down a fresh surge of tears, happy tears, grateful for his friend. He cracked a smile. “Sorry,” he said.

“It’s cool. Just… okay I don’t know what to do. What’s appropriate right now?” Yongsun said.

Jaehyun laughed. “I uh, need a favor?” he said.

“Sure, man, what is it?” Yongsun replied.

“I really need to see someone, but my parents won’t let me meet him.”

“Okay, um. What… why?”

“Because I’m… it’s complicated. He’s my… I’m kind of…” he trails off, thinking perhaps he shouldn’t tell anyone. Not even Yongsun.

“What, is he your boyfriend?” Yongsun said with a laugh, and was met with silence. Yongsun’s eyes widened. “He is?”

“It’s not like that,” Jaehyun said tiredly.

“Okay, okay…” Yongsun said. He opened his mouth like he had something else to say, but the only thing that came out was another strangled “Okay.”

Moments passed in silence with Jaehyun praying to a God he didn’t even believe in, praying that this wouldn’t be another rejection, because he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What do you need me to do?” Yongsun said.

Jaehyun’s eyes fell closed, one relieved breath escaping his lips. “I’m going to see him,” he said. “If my mother calls you, just cover for me. Tell her I’m with you.”

 

And that’s how he ended up in the back of a cab, returning from Taeyong’s place, calming a hammering heart, preparing himself for his father’s return and all the inevitable fuckups that would follow. When he gets out of the cab and looks up at the familiar dirty white of his building, he tells himself with a sinking sadness in his gut that this might be the last time he comes home. He forces himself to hold his chin high and push his shoulders back. Fuck them, he says to himself.

Fuck you, I’m going to be happy.

 

Taeyong is left looking at the text on his phone, wondering if he should trust that. After the way Jaehyun fucked him and left like that, is it wise to trust a word he says, he wonders. It hurts more than anything Jaehyun has ever said or done before. He feels like Jaehyun doesn’t think of him as a best friend, as his hyung anymore, just a body to draw pleasure from. Something insignificant, something he can afford to use and throw away.

For three days after Jaehyun leaves, he’s a mess. He’s slipping into something he doesn’t know he can pull himself out of. Endless, endless, not good enough, broken, he can’t love you, he’s just using you, how could he love you, how could he hurt you, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. Somehow, on the fourth day, the mess in Taeyong’s orders itself. The raw hurt of a fresh wound recedes into the dull ache of old scars. He wakes up with a singular thought.

He won’t be reduced to that, he thinks, not even by Jaehyun.

This is not okay, not right. He’ll talk to him, the next time they meet, he decides, reminding himself that he didn’t spend years and years and innumerable hours in therapy learning how to respect himself just to be treated like this. If Jaehyun decides that something has to change, if he learns how to be kinder to him, only then he’ll allow this relationship to continue. If he doesn’t change, then it’s over.

The very thought shocks him. He didn’t think he was even capable of envisioning their break up. Could he call it that? He supposes they were never really together, not in Jaehyun’s head, at least. The fact that those few weeks of beautiful memories, of pretending like they were in love meant the world to Taeyong, is irrelevant.

 

It’s late evening, a few days after Jaehyun’s father returned from his trip. He wanted to tell him immediately, but somehow found himself lacking the courage. But now, when it’s the night before he has to return to the dorm, he thinks it might be safe. He tells them he has something to say.

He already has his bags packed. He knows what to expect.

He’s sitting with his parents in the living room now, and his father is looking at him expectantly. His mother’s eyes are wide, looking at him incredulously, like he couldn’t really be doing this. Like she couldn’t understand how he could be so shameless, so stupid, like she’s daring him to bring the words out of his mouth.

“What is it, Jaehyun?” his father says, concerned.

Jaehyun’s mouth opens, and he wants something of his rehearsed speech to come out, but he just sits there with sweaty palms, his face hot, his heart pounding.

His father turns to look at his wife for some sort of explanation, but she sits there completely shocked, completely silent.

“What’s happening?” his father says, and it sounds a little harsher than before, a twinge of impatience.

“I’m gay,” he says unceremoniously.

There’s a shocked silence, and Jaehyun sits there not knowing what to say. The words are out, the words are out of his mouth and in the real world, the grown up world with duties and family honor, with prejudice and hatred, and his father has heard them now.

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or terrified, but he feels oddly numb.

His father laughs. Mean and hollow, and it echoes in their quiet living room. Jaehyun is left staring at him.

 

It’s late evening, the day before they have to return to the dorm. Taeyong’s cousin calls him and says he’s in Seoul for the weekend, and they should go out somewhere. All the cousins together, it would be so much fun, he says.

Taeyong hesitates. He’s tired, he’s miserable, his body feels too heavy for him to carry, but he’s determined to feel better. He needs to get the fuck out of the house, he decides. He needs to feel more like himself, so with just a little bit of prodding from his younger cousin, he agrees.

He pushes himself out of bed, pulls on a pair of jeans and a t shirt, and is about to leave his room when he catches a glimpse of his reflection. He stops dead and his first reaction is to laugh. He looks like shit, he realizes. He’s kept to his diet, more or less, so his weight seems fine, but his skin looks terrible. Sort of ashy, like he hasn’t slept in days. His hair is a mess too, unstyled for the first time in over a year. He runs his hand through his greasy hair, and another embarrassed laugh slips from his mouth.

How pathetic, he thinks. Letting himself go like this because of a boy. This isn’t him.

He’s an idol. He’s the visual center of NCT 127, he’s fucking sexy and he can’t believe he let himself forget that. He laughs again. On a whim, he pulls his phone out, telling his cousin he’ll be a little late, undressing quickly and stepping into the shower. He doesn’t come back out till his hair is washed and dried and falling softly into his eyes like he likes it, and his skin is scrubbed clean and glowing somewhat like he’s used to seeing it.

He takes his time picking his clothes. He feels a little silly, but the whole thing is making him feel a little better, a little more confident, so he just goes with it. He adds a little eyeliner, too, just because he’s having too much fun at this point.

When he steps out of the house, he looks good, he feels good, and he’s determined to have a good time.

 

The door slams behind Jaehyun. He doesn’t look back, he just keeps walking, quick, sure steps, determined to put as much distance between him and that house as is possible. He swallows, tries to breathe calmly, but his throat hurts from the sobs he’s holding down, and his ribs hurt from the weight of his father’s anger. He adjusts the bag on his shoulder, heavy, filled with everything he needed to take with him, everything he valued from his childhood, because he’d never be able to go back. That house ceased to be his home.

When he can’t breathe anymore, he stops walking. Pulls out his phone desperately and dials Taeyong’s number in with trembling hands. He needs to see him. He needs to tell him he did it. He stood up to his father, stood his ground even when the back of his hand came down hard across his face, even when his lip split open and bled and his jaw throbbed and his ribs bruised, he stood his ground. He wants to tell him, that when his mother jumped in, and told his father about Taeyong, and that ugly, miserable old man said Taeyong’s name, when filth fell from his mouth and he said cruel things about him, that Jaehyun got to his feet, drew his fist back, and punched his father right in the face. Right in his smug fucking face, and he made it hurt.

He wants to tell him, that he’s free now, he’s free, but why does he feel so alone, why does he feel uprooted? Perhaps it’s that mechanical ringing in his ear, ringing, ringing, where there should have been Taeyong’s voice. He tries again. Taeyong doesn’t answer. Again, and again, and it’s the same result. His face is hot, sticky with tears he didn’t know were there, he’s left standing on an empty road with his life packed into a bag, and nobody to call his own.

 

Taeyong is at a club. Something flashy and upmarket, something his cousins desperately wanted to do. He finds his initial enthusiasm slipping away. The music is too loud in his already muddled brain, and there’s the beginning of a pounding headache somewhere behind his eyes. He’s trying to have fun, but he’s failing miserably. He downs a few drinks, too, but nothing changes.

He tries his best, but he just wants to lie down, just wants to sleep, wake up, go to work tomorrow. He looks around uncomfortably, grinding bodies everywhere, too close for comfort, the flickering lights blinding him, making his head pound that much harder. He feels suffocated.

He tells his cousins he needs to leave, lies and says he has an early start tomorrow, and he’ll have to head back and get some sleep. He turns his back on their drunken disappointment and loud objections, pushes his way through the crowd, and leaves.

 

Jaehyun is drunk, very, very drunk. Yongsun is looking at him with big concerned eyes, telling him to slow down, but the booze burns his broken lip and then washes down to numb him, and Jaehyun likes it.

“It’s over,” Jaehyun says. “I’ve lost my family.”

“They might still come around, Jaehyun. Maybe they just need time.”

Jaehyun laughs. “They won’t,” he slurs with a miserable grin. “You don’t know them, they’re monsters.”

Yongsun swallows uncomfortably.

“Your boyfriend still won’t answer?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, and the way he swallows, the downward twitch of the corner of his mouth tells Yongsun how much that hurts him.

“Hey, Jaehyun, look. He’s probably busy, or he fell asleep or something. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll call back soon.”

Jaehyun shakes his head again. “You know, he’s very pretty?” he says. “He’s fucking beautiful, better than any girl I’ve ever seen, you know that?”

Yongsun smiles at his stupid lovestruck friend.

Jaehyun pulls his phone out, fiddles about with it and puts it on the table. He gestures for Yongsun to look at it. It’s Taeyong’s SNS, with a picture he shared a few hours ago, a selfie of him and Minjun, with a caption that says happy birthday to my favorite person.

“Shit,” Yongsun says. “It’s this guy? He’s from your group, right?”

Jaehyun nods. “Isn’t he beautiful?” he says bitterly.

Yongsun shrugs uncomfortably. “I guess, yeah, he’s attractive.”

Jaehyun pours himself another drink, his face scrunching up when he tastes the strong alcohol.

“What about the other guy?” he asks.

“I suppose he’s handsome, too…” Yongsun trails off.

Jaehyun smiles, and there’s nothing genuine about it. “That’s his ex,” he says, with thinly veiled contempt. “Why would he answer my calls when he’s with his favorite fucking person?”

Yongsun gawps. “I’m sure it’s not like that,” he manages to say.

“Maybe,” Jaehyun muses, downing another drink. “I think I’ll go see him.”

“Hey, man, you’re drunk, why don’t you just come and stay at my place tonight?” Yongsun suggests carefully. “I don’t know if you should meet him like this.”

Jaehyun looks at him like he’s considering it, but then he shakes his head.

“I need to see him.”

 

 

Taeyong steps out of the elevator, walks towards his apartment, searching his pockets for the keys. He feels the dig of metal against his fingertips and pulls his keys out. That’s when he looks up, and he stops dead, a few feet short of his front door. There’s a familiar figure sitting hunched over by the door, knees pulled to his chest.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong says, and the figure looks up.

Taeyong can see those familiar eyes looking up at him from above the mask pulled over his face, shadowed by his hoodie. Jaehyun gets to his feet a little clumsily, and Taeyong walks up to him quietly, unlocking the door, unsure of what to feel. He steps into the dark apartment, toeing his shoes off, and Jaehyun follows behind him, closing the door.

He drops his heavy bag in a corner, and Taeyong turns to him, trying to find words. “We need to talk,” he says, and then Jaehyun throws his hood back, and peels his mask off, and Taeyong’s breath stops. His lip is split, dried blood and an ugly bruise all around it, his jaw beginning to swell.

“What happened?” he breathes, all his disappointment and hurt giving way to worry, stepping up to Jaehyun, gentle hands on his face, fingers ghosting over the violet skin. “Jesus, Hyunnie, what happened?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “He hit me,” he says, and Taeyong smells the alcohol on his breath. His father? Did he tell his parents? He feels sick.

“Oh god, are you okay, baby? Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks, scared, because Jaehyun is a little unsteady on his feet, a little unfocused.

Jaehyun doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers curl around Taeyong’s wrists and draw his hands away from his face. “Where were you?” he says, and Taeyong thinks he hears an accusation in there somewhere.

“Fuck, how long were you out there?” Taeyong says. Suddenly everything is making sense, Jaehyun showing up at this hour, that big bag sitting in the corner, did he leave home?

“Where were you?” Jaehyun asks again.

“Hyunnie, I’m so sorry, I was out with my cousins.”

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” he says, and Taeyong hears the hurt ringing loud and clear in the silence of his house. It falls like bricks between them.

“My phone, I left it in my cousin’s car, Jaehyun, I’m so sorry,” Taeyong replies, feeling stupid, hating himself for not being there when Jaehyun needed him. Maybe he’s angry, too, because shouldn’t he be asking Jaehyun that? Jaehyun, why didn’t you answer my calls?

“Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll get an icepack,” he says instead, deciding this isn’t the time for his anger.

Jaehyun tightens his grip on Taeyong’s wrists, pulls him close, and Taeyong still sees hurt in his eyes, and it feels like there’s anger, too. “You’re mine, right?” he breathes.

“Of course,” he whispers back, letting Jaehyun kiss him briefly. Taeyong breaks the kiss, afraid of hurting the younger, not quite willing to let Jaehyun take it further without talking first, without clearing things up. But Jaehyun chases his mouth, kissing him harder. Taeyong tries to pull away. But Jaehyun holds him tight.

“Hyunnie your lip, let me…”

He’s cut off once again by a forceful kiss. Jaehyun isn’t listening.

“Baby, slow down, you’ll hurt yourself,” he whispers against Jaehyun’s mouth, but the younger just keeps going.

Jaehyun is drunk, he realizes. Not that pleasant, too loud, too dumb, too many limbs kind of drunk. It’s that ugly, losing control, losing touch with reality, losing your mind kind of drunk. If that worries him a little, Taeyong doesn’t show it.

Jaehyun is kissing him, sloppy, hard, and Taeyong lets him, gives in because it’s Jaehyun, and it feels like that’s what he needs right now. Taeyong’s body reacts, because it’s Jaehyun. Jaehyun palms him, strokes him over his jeans and Taeyong is helpless. He undoes the button on Taeyong’s jeans, pulls the zipper down, and Taeyong will pretend like this isn’t dirty, because it’s Jaehyun.

So with Jaehyun’s tongue tracing a wet path up the side of his neck, and with a soundless moan in his throat, Taeyong lets him slip his hand into his pants, lets his fingers curl around his length, lets him stroke him roughly, all the while kissing him breathless.

It’s when Jaehyun’s hands begin unbuckling his own belt that Taeyong stops him.

“My room,” he whispers.

It’s a frantic rush, clumsy because they still have to kiss on the way there, because maybe Taeyong is in too fucking deep and he feels that familiar, consuming need taking over him, because Jaehyun is so fucking drunk.

They’re in the safe confines of Taeyong’s room, behind a locked door. Jaehyun’s kisses are so forceful he ends up splitting open the cut in his lip, and Taeyong’s mouth is filled with the taste of blood and booze. That’s not what Jaehyun should taste like, but he doesn’t have the time to think about it because the kiss is broken.

Jaehyun grips his hips hard, turns him around roughly, and Taeyong feels his arms being folded behind his back forcefully, held in place by Jaehyun’s strong hands before he can do a damned thing to stop it. The next moment sees Jaehyun pushing him down onto the bed, his chest and his cheek pressing against the soft cotton sheets with the weight of Jaehyun’s torso pinning him down.

Taeyong is crazy turned on at this point, moaning Jaehyun’s name, with Jaehyun sucking on his earlobe and manhandling him like this, but there’s something disconcerting, some distant voice in the back of his mind screaming, screaming. There’s something that’s clawing behind his eyes and he doesn’t understand what it is.

Jaehyun adjusts his grip, holding him down with one hand and bringing the other up to Taeyong’s mouth.

“Spit,” he whispers into Taeyong’s ear.

Taeyong raises his head just a little, complies wordlessly, because he fucking loves this. He does, he really does. He finds himself repeating that in his mind one too many times.

He closes his eyes, feels Jaehyun withdrawing his hand, reaching back, pressing the warm fluid to Taeyong’s entrance, his weight disappearing from Taeyong’s back. Taeyong shudders, feels the push of one finger inside him, then two, then that familiar flicker of pleasure, building slowly, steadily. The fingers disappear, and there’s a moment’s delay, and Jaehyun is pushing into him, both hands pushing down on Taeyong’s back.

Taeyong’s eyes snap open. No lube. Not enough preparation. Jaehyun’s cock is coated in saliva, but it’s not enough, and he’s big, too big. It hurts, and it should be good, it’s always good with Jaehyun, especially when it hurts. But this doesn’t feel right.

“Fuck,” he chokes out.

It fucking hurts. That’s okay, it’s only a matter of time before it gets good, he tells himself.

He’s pushed all the way in, and now his hips are pulling back. The voice in his head is screaming louder, and an image flickers behind closed eyes. Fourteen years old, pressed into the bathroom floor, the pain, the pain.

No, no, no. This isn’t like that. This is Jaehyun, beautiful, kind, Jaehyun. The boy he loves. He just has to use his voice, tell him baby it’s too much, I can’t take it. He just has to tell him, and the pain will stop.

“Stop,” Taeyong breathes out, and in the next excruciating moments, Taeyong learns what betrayal feels like.

Jaehyun isn’t stopping.

Because Jaehyun is drunk. Losing control drunk. Losing touch with reality drunk. Losing his mind drunk.

He’s thrusting back in, and Taeyong’s lips part, one quiet sob.

Screaming, screaming in his mind. He’s going to hurt you, use you, break you.

Taeyong is terrified now. He doesn’t want this, this doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel like Jaehyun. He counts four, five thrusts, getting harder, and Taeyong tries to say something but his whole body just sort of shuts down, locks up. He can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. He begins to tremble.

His vision clouds black, and he’s slipping, slipping. There are hands on his body, big hands on his skinny body, fingers in his body, lips on his lips and he wants to scream, but if he screams he’ll hurt him. He’ll put his hands around his throat and squeeze till his vision clouds black.

No, this isn’t like that. This is Jaehyun.

 “Hyung?”

Taeyong doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t know where he is, because past and present are blurring together in a mangled mess, and he can’t stay conscious.

“Hyung!”

He’s empty now, his body being turned over, limp like there’s no life left in him.

“Hyung what’s wrong?” Jaehyun’s voice. Jaehyun, oh God, thank god, it’s Jaehyun.

There are hands cupping his face, big, smooth hands. “Hyung, Jesus, is it happening again?”

Taeyong gathers himself, slowly realizing that he's cradled in Jaehyun's arms. Little bits of himself coming together till he can think, till he can will himself to breathe. His broken trust lies heavy on his tongue, and it tastes like blood and booze.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun pleads. “Say something, God, what…”

“I asked you to stop,” he says.

It takes a second to register, but when it does, Jaehyun’s heart stops. He’s wrenched out of inebriation, falls into some sort of sobriety head first. Like the haze has been wiped clean from his mind. What Taeyong said scares the shit out of him, and when his eyes focus on Taeyong’s face it scares him even more. Tear tracks, lips bitten raw, eyes wet and red and his eyeliner smudged. Jaehyun’s lips part, he’s fucking horrified.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun whispers, and he sounds positively distraught because he didn’t even know he was hurting him. He doesn’t understand when this happened, five minutes ago he was moaning Jaehyun’s name, what happened? A formless thought sinks into his gut. Baby not tonight, I’m tired, I can’t, eyes on me hyung, just look at me. He reaches out with a trembling hand to wipe his tears or caress his face or something, just to touch him gently, but Taeyong flinches away.

“Don’t,” he says, still not meeting Jaehyun’s eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Jaehyun says, his voice small, feeling his breath slipping away from him, feeling wretched, sick.

“I asked you to stop,” Taeyong whispers. “And you didn’t.”

Jaehyun’s stomach turns violently. If you put it like that it almost sounds like…

No it’s not like that. He didn’t know, he didn’t hear him say that. In a moment of clarity he felt Taeyong trembling beneath him, and then he called out to him and Taeyong didn’t respond. And he stopped immediately, as soon as he realized something was wrong, but that doesn’t change anything for Taeyong. It was still a violation of his body, something he didn’t want.

Jaehyun raises a trembling hand to his mouth, “I’m so sorry,” he chokes out. “I didn’t know…”

He feels sick. Sick, sick. He needs to vomit.

“Fuck you,” Taeyong says, and it’s a strange sort of venom filling his voice.

Jaehyun’s stomach turns again, and he feels alcohol and bile crawling bitter up his throat. He stumbles toward the toilet. He drops to his knees, retches violently, emptying his insides like he wanted to purge away everything that happened.

Taeyong just lies there in his messy sheets, looking away. He speaks only when Jaehyun quietens down.

“Clean up and leave, please.”

“Taeyong hyung, please,” he says.

“I need you to leave,” Taeyong says, and his voice breaks around a sob.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. "I didn't mean to, I didn't realize, I'm so..."

“Get out, Jaehyun.”


	16. Chapter 16

The hallway outside Taeyong’s apartment is excruciatingly quiet. Jaehyun has settled into sobriety now, the night’s events replaying ceaselessly in his mind. He keeps going over it, again, and again. How could he have been so oblivious to Taeyong’s pain? He vaguely recalls him whispering something, but the actual words didn’t register.

The whole thing, the whole thing was a matter of minutes. A few terrible, terrible minutes of being too drunk to understand what no means. A few hazy minutes, threatening to destroy years of friendship, months of intimacy.

He can’t wipe the image from his mind. Taeyong’s face, crumpling up into something unrecognizable. He did that. That trembling body, that wasn’t pleasure, that was fear. He did that to him. He’s not brave enough to think about what that means.

All those nights Taeyong said no, and Jaehyun understood, not really, but sort of had an inkling of why he didn’t want to. And tonight, he said no, and Jaehyun was too drunk, too hurt, too stupid to remember that sometimes, Taeyong says no. He should have remembered, he should have paid attention, listened for the words, looked for the signs, the way his body stiffens, the way he trembles.

He shouldn’t have been so drunk.

He sits by Taeyong’s front door, pulls his knees to his chest, nothing to keep him warm but his big black padded jacket. He sits there dry eyed all night.

 

Minutes tick by and Taeyong lies in his bed, exactly the way Jaehyun left him. He feels a terrible sort of emptiness, a kind of numbness he never wanted to feel again. Slowly, feeling sinks back into his skin, slowly, like something being unveiled, in the silence of his bedroom, he lets himself think about what happened, and it hurts so bad, he misses the numbness.

He goes over it in his mind, again, and again. He didn’t know, he said. Jaehyun didn’t know he was hurting him. He fucked him, took pleasure from his body and he didn’t know that Taeyong was drowning. He should have known. Why didn’t he know?

He was drunk.

He’s sorry, he said? He’s sorry? That doesn’t change a damned thing.

Taeyong feels the hurt, with excruciating clarity, he feels the hurt in his chest, in his throat, in his head, under his skin. Jaehyun hurt him. Jaehyun, beautiful, kind Jaehyun, the boy he loves.

He fucked him, for how long? One, two minutes? Taeyong counted twenty nine, the number of times Jaehyun pushed into his body and he wasn’t welcome, after Taeyong told him to stop. He didn’t know?

Something quietly dissonant in his mind is unsettling him.

He’s thinking, thinking, going over it again, and again. One whispered word, stop, and then Taeyong slipped away from reality. Is it possible Jaehyun hadn’t heard?

He should have heard. He should have been paying attention. He shouldn’t have come to him drunk, he shouldn’t have put them in that position. Because he knows Taeyong can’t take it, sometimes. He knows, he must know by now, must have guessed why Taeyong can’t take it sometimes. He should have been paying attention, and his body, his trust shouldn’t have been violated twenty nine times.

He would have been paying attention, if he cared. If he really loved him, if he cared about him, he wouldn’t have done that, Taeyong thinks.

He knows there’s no reason in this, no self respect, but he’s thinking and he can’t stop. Jaehyun doesn’t love him, never cared about him. He cries. He doesn’t want to, he hates himself for it, but he’s crying and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop. He wants to stand up, get dressed, go after Jaehyun and ask him things. Did you really not know? Or did you think it’s okay not to give a fuck what I want? Are you really sorry? Or is that something you’re just saying to keep me in your bed, just like everything else you do?

Blindly, Taeyong reaches for his phone, not wanting to be alone. He dials the number, hears ringing, ringing, ringing and he’s losing hope. But then it stops, and there’s the brief buzz of static, and that familiar voice fills his ears.

“Taeyongie,” he says, and Taeyong stifles a sob.

“Minjun,” he breathes. “I… uh. I just wanted to say happy birthday, again.”

There’s a brief silence. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Taeyong lies.

There’s another pause, and Taeyong closes his eyes, hearing Minjun telling someone to piss off, the sound of a door closing.

“What happened?” comes Minjun’s voice, worried, gentle.

“Junie, if you’re with someone, just go, it’s okay. It’s your birthday.”

“Taeyong, why are you crying?”

Taeyong can’t speak.

“What did he do?” Minjun says again. “It’s Jaehyun, isn’t it? The last time you called me crying, it was about him. What did he do?”

Taeyong flinches at the sound of his name. What did he do? He broke me down.

“He doesn’t love me, Junie,” Taeyong says instead, and he feels pathetic. Feels cruel, dirty, pathetic.

Minjun exhales slowly. “Then he’s a fucking idiot,” he says. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, Taeyong, the kindest man, so easy to fall in love with, you know that? And if he can’t love you, he can’t love anyone, and he’s going to die alone.”

Taeyong closes his eyes tight. “Why couldn’t I just fall in love with you, Junie?” he says.

“That’s hurtful, Taeyong,” Minjun says softly.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says, and he cries again.

Minjun sighs. “Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” Taeyong replies.

“I haven’t eaten, either,” Minjun says. “You want to have dinner together? Over the phone? It’s been a while.”

Taeyong can’t do that. He can’t eat right now, can’t even stand up. “I’m good,” he says. “You eat.”

“What do you need, baby?” Minjun says. “How do I make you feel better?”

Taeyong closes his eyes, remembering the night Jaehyun had asked him all the same things. Jaehyun, that’s what he should be doing. Jaehyun, he’s on the wrong side of this now.

“Can you just… talk to me, just for a little bit?” he says.

“Yeah,” he says. “I can do that.”

And Minjun starts talking, about food in Hong Kong, about another Korean exchange student he had the hots for, about his irritating roommate, about how he keeps trying to scare Minjun shitless by randomly staring off into a corner of the room and holding full conversations with some invisible woman, telling her not to sit on Minjun’s bed at night, asking her if she thinks they can smell the bodies yet, and then cracking up at the sight of Minjun’s pale, terrified face. Taeyong laughs, because he can picture it, Minjun’s frightened face, from all the horror movies they watched together, and for a second it’s like nothing’s changed.

“I saw that picture you put up of us, man I look good in that picture,” Minjun says.

“Yeah, your hair looks like that,” Taeyong replies, letting himself fall into this light hearted conversation.

“It’s grown out now,” Minjun says. “I was planning on letting it grow super long, like Song Jae Rim or something.”

Taeyong chuckles. “That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had,” he says and Minjun laughs with him.

He gets out of bed slowly. He’ll deal with this mess later, he decides. Right now, he’ll let Minjun make him laugh. He gets dressed with his phone jammed between his shoulder and his ear. He heads out to the kitchen, closing the door behind him on everything that happened that night. He asks Minjun what he’s eating, chides him when he finds out he’s eating ramyun for dinner, pretending like they’re just having a normal conversation, like any other day, before any of this happened.

“It’s your birthday, Junie, at least today you should eat something nicer,” he says, raiding his fridge for something to eat.

“It’s not anymore,” Minjun replies. “It’s 12:07 here.”

Taeyong laughs, tells him he’s not faring much better, eating jjajangmyeon straight out of the fridge. It feels nice, hearing Minjun’s laugh over the phone in the middle of the night. It feels like they’ll fall asleep talking to each other, just like they used to when they were better friends. And then maybe tomorrow Minjun would come over late in the evening, and they’d lock the bedroom door and their moans and gasps and sighs would echo shamelessly through the empty house, and then Minjun would kiss him sweetly and leave before Taeyong’s parents came home. It was never anything too serious for Taeyong. Just something he went along with because Minjun was his friend, and that’s what he wanted, and Taeyong liked the attention, liked the sex, liked the idea of a relationship.

And then he remembers just how much time has passed since they last kissed each other, just how much has changed. He remembers telling Minjun that he’s fallen in love, with a boy made of magic, and it was left unsaid that what he and Minjun shared, that wasn’t magic.

“Sleep, Yongie,” Minjun says gently, when Taeyong yawns into the phone.

Taeyong hums, curling up on the couch with the phone still glued to his ear. He doesn’t want to go back into his bedroom, and he doesn’t want his time with Minjun to come to an end. He’s almost asleep when Minjun speaks softly.

“I still love you,” he says. “Just in case you decide you’ve had it with this guy, and you want to love me instead. I love you, Taeyong.”

Taeyong breathes slowly, he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything.

He wants to say I love you, too, but Jaehun’s soft brown eyes are in his mind and the gentle press of his lips is still lingering on his mouth, despite the dull ache in Taeyong’s back that speaks of broken trust.

 

Jaehyun is still sitting by the door when Taeyong’s mother returns from work, close to 2 am. He stands up, greets her with a smile and a bow, and she looks terribly confused.

“Why are you sitting out here?” she asks with a puzzled smile. “Taeyong isn’t opening the door? Has he fallen asleep or something?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I just… don’t think he wants me in the house.”

She frowns. “Did you guys fight?”

Jaehyun swallows thickly. “You could say that,” he says.

She sighs. “He’s been acting so strange for the past couple of weeks,” she says.

Jaehyun stays silent, because he’s too tired to make sense of what she’s saying.

“Do you need a ride home or something?” she says.

He shakes his head. What home, his thinks. “I’ll find my way,” he says, not wanting her to know that he was planning on sitting there all night, till Taeyong wakes up the following morning and leaves for the dorm. He isn’t leaving. Not after what happened. But he still respects Taeyong enough to understand that he isn’t welcome in that house.

Taeyong’s mother nods. “Get back safe,” she says. “And try and make up as soon as you can. You’re one of his best friends as far as I know, and best friends shouldn’t stay mad at each other.”

He smiles, and he feels the sting of tears in his eyes so he bows again, trying to make sure she doesn’t see. She sees anyway, and for a moment he wonders if that’s where Taeyong gets it, his ability to sense when people are hurting.

“Don’t worry, things will be fine,” she says calmly, and it feels like Taeyong is speaking. How lovely it must be to have a mother like that, he thinks. How lovely it must be to turn out like Taeyong, strong and patient and calm.

He nods.

She looks at him for a long moment, kindly eyes, aging beauty in her wrinkled skin. “Jaehyun, why don’t you just sleep here today? It’s quite late,” she says.

“No, ma’am. I’ll get going,” he says, and she looks at him as if asking him if he’s sure. He’s sure, he shouldn’t be in that house, Taeyong doesn’t want him there. “Good night,” he says.

“Good night, Jaehyun,” she says, and enters her house, closing the door behind her.

Jaehyun sits back down, exactly where he was before. Taeyong doesn’t want him in his house, but Jaehyun can’t fucking leave.

 

 

Taeyong steps out of his house at 9 the next morning.

Jaehyun wakes up to the sound of the door closing, his muscles stiff from dozing off in that hunched position by the door. Taeyong freezes for a moment, staring at Jaehyun, completely dumbfounded. Jaehyun gets to his feet hurriedly. Taeyong looks like he’s about to say something, but a shadow passes over his eyes and he turns and walks away. His shoulders are tense, Jaehyun can tell. He’s still in pain, Jaehyun can tell. He shoulders his bag and runs after him, reaches out, fingers curling loosely around Taeyong’s wrist. The older man stops, turns around, looks Jaehyun in the eye before gently wresting his hand away.

Jaehyun pretends like that didn’t just twist his insides painfully.

“Talk to me,” he pleads.

Taeyong looks at him, and Jaehyun sees something between contempt and revulsion, anger, and more than anything else he sees hurt. He wants to just cry. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t.

“What the hell was that, Jaehyun?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but Taeyong isn’t finished.

“I’m not… some whore,” he says softly.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun says, aghast.

“I’m not someone you can fuck whenever and however and not give a fuck about…”

“Hyung!” Jaehyun cries out. “I didn’t know I was hurting you, I swear, hyung, you have to believe me,” he says. “I didn’t know you wanted me to stop.”

Jaehyun pauses, because he has to breathe.

“If I knew, I would never… hurt you. Hyung, you know I would never…” he says quietly.

Never what? Never force you? Violate you?

“But you did.”

“I’m sorry, hyung, I want to take it all back, I’m sorry. Tell me how to fix this.”

“I don’t want to fix anything,” Taeyong says calmly. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Hyung, please,” Jaehyun breathes. “What happened. I don’t know, I think I know, but you don’t talk to me and I don’t understand. Last night you were so into it, and then you just weren’t and I just needed a little longer to understand that because I was drunk. Hyung, I stopped, I stopped, the minute I realized… I stopped.”

Taeyong looks at him for a long while. “I know,” he says. “But in those few moments, I was so sure you wouldn’t. I was convinced you were going to hurt me, and that has never happened before, even when you used to tie me up and bruise me and make me bleed, because I trusted you. Last night, I… was sure you were going to… The way we are right now, Jaehyun, I hate it.”

“You don’t trust me anymore?” Jaehyun says.

Taeyong doesn’t say anything. “What am I to you?” he asks.

“What?”

“You asked me to wait, Jaehyun. What the hell am I waiting for? What am I to you?”

“Hyung, you’re...”

You’re what? You’re everything. You’re the man who made me feel normal, like I belong somewhere, like I’m alive. How is he supposed to say that? He’s struggling for an answer, but he’s coming up blank, and he knows he’s hurting Taeyong so much with every second he spends saying nothing.

“Ah,” he says. “Nothing? You think I’m some dirty little whore. I’m nothing to you. You can do whatever you want with me. Is that it?”

“No! How can you say that? That’s not true, none of that is…”

“No? I’m not your little plaything?” Taeyong says softly. “You wouldn’t just fuck me and leave without a word? You wouldn’t use me, Jaehyun is that what you’re saying?”

Oh. Oh God. No, that day, that wasn’t… he wasn’t using him, Jesus, not like that. He needed his body, to remind him what it feels like, to give him the courage to go home and face his parents. And he left, because he had to, to keep Taeyong safe. Because he was afraid if he stayed, if he spoke to Taeyong, he’d cry. He didn’t want to be weak anymore, he wanted Taeyong to trust him.

 “That’s not true,” Jaehyun says, and he doesn’t know what to say anymore, because it feels like nothing will make a difference. How did it even come to this? He doesn’t know. He wanted to hold Taeyong and tell him, hyung look, I stood up to my parents, for you, for me, I feel so brave, hyung I love you, I’m in love with you and I feel so brave. How did this happen?

Taeyong continues.

“You know why I wouldn't fuck Chanyeol sunbae?”

“Hyung, please.”

“You need to hear this, and I need to say it. Do you know why Minjun and I broke up?" he says. "Because I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you, god I – no. It’s pretty clear now that I’m the only one who feels this way. I don’t know if you were just lying to me, telling me what I wanted to hear so I’d let you fuck me, but I’m not doing this anymore. I’m going to stop now.”

That’s the first time Taeyong has said that out loud. Jaehyun knew, all along, but that’s the first time the words fell from Taeyong’s lips and he thought it would feel beautiful, liberating, warm, to hear him say that. But it feels so bitter, coming like this, in these circumstances.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun pleads. “I wasn’t lying to you, I swear, it’s real, hyung. I fucked up, I was drunk and upset and I fucked up. It shouldn’t have happened, I’m sorry.”

“I’m done Jaehyun, I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

No, no, no. What does that mean? He’s done, they’re done? No.

“Taeyong hyung,” he says, enveloping him in a tight embrace. “No, please, you don’t understand.”

Taeyong pushes him away. “I don’t want you in my life anymore, Jaehyun. I thought I could be happy with you, but you’re… you’re an asshole. You treat me like shit and you expect me to stay, you won’t give me anything, you just keep tearing me down, and I don’t want you in my life anymore. We’re colleagues. That’s it.”

“Hyung please, I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

“Fuck you,” Taeyong spits, and it hurts him so much. “I gave you everything, Jaehyun. Right from the start, for me, it was just you, and I gave you everything you wanted, time, space, the freedom to choose whatever the fuck our relationship would be. Just friends, fine, friends with benefits, that’s fine too. You want to play at being lovers and then pretend like it’s nothing, great. I don’t give a fuck what you want anymore. We’re done.”

Taeyong walks away and Jaehyun is left staring after him, blinking back tears, quietly devastated.

 

Taeyong sits silently in the cab, staring out of the window. He’s alone, having left Jaehyun standing in the middle of a hallway in his apartment building, having left him behind. He can’t believe the things he just said, never believed it was possible to leave Jaehyun.

He tries to thinks about that. No Jaehyun, no unassuming dimpled smile, no arms to keep him safe and warm. No, all of that is toxic now. Jaehyun burned it to the ground. The thought is jarring, uncomfortable. He feels it clearly, the loss of a friend, bridges burning, through all the hurt and anger and betrayal, he feels it.

There’s a small voice in his head telling him Jaehyun was sorry, that he didn’t know what he was doing to Taeyong, that he stopped and cried and said he was so fucking sorry, and he left because Taeyong asked him to, but he stayed close, sat up all night in a cold, empty hallway so he could try and fix things. He shuts it up with gritted teeth and squared shoulders, angry, ready for a fucking fight, hurt, so hurt.

So what if he didn’t mean to do it. It doesn’t change that fact that for a few minutes, Taeyong relived hell, and it was Jaehyun’s fault. He didn’t feel safe with him, and that’s Jaehyun’s fault too. He didn’t trust him, didn’t feel worthy of being treated with decency, and Jaehyun was the one that made him feel that way. Taeyong gave him everything he ever wanted, and he got nothing back.

If he were calmer, if the pain in his chest wasn’t burning him raw, maybe he would have realized that somewhere, he knew that it was circumstance, both their faults. Everything leading up to the previous night. All those fights, the innumerable times Taeyong should have said something, stood up for himself, but he didn’t. He’d realize that he wasn’t honest with Jaehyun either, that he didn’t tell him how he felt about him, about their situation, that he played a big part in tearing their relationship down.

But he’s hurt, and he’s angry, and he wants to blame Jaehyun for everything they’ve ever been through. He doesn’t want to remember that that boy was the reason he slept through most nights, that he was the reason he didn’t starve himself faint, that he kept him together when he was falling apart, so many times, so many times. He doesn’t want to think about how their relationship came to this, and he doesn’t think he has the energy to forgive him for this.

They can’t fix this.

 

Jaehyun sits in a small family restaurant in Taeyong’s neighborhood for hours after Taeyong leaves. There’s too much for him to think about. For the first hour, there’s an odd sort of buzzing in his ears, a vacuum, because there’s just too much to process.

And then it starts sinking in.

I don’t want you in my life anymore.

I thought I could be happy with you.

You used me.

You were just telling me what I wanted to hear so I’d let you fuck me.

Christ, he thinks. He didn’t realize his absence for the past couple of weeks would be so misconstrued. He thought if he just told Taeyong he had feelings for him, he’d trust him, he’d wait for him to come back. But he didn’t trust him, and that hurts. Taeyong thought he lied to him.

That day Jaehyun managed to leave home and meet Taeyong, he was so happy, and apparently he was the only one who was happy about that. Taeyong thought he used him, a quick fuck and then Jaehyun was out the door. He thinks about it, and he realizes that’s exactly what it must have looked like. Because Taeyong didn’t trust him, didn’t think he might have an explanation for that. That hurts, too, that Taeyong could think so little of him.

Why couldn’t he just trust him?

It’s another forty five minutes before he lets himself find the answer to that.

Because he has lied before.

No, hyung I don’t remember what happened that night.

Yeah, hyung everything’s fine.

We’re just friends, just sleeping together.

I’ll call you every day.

All of them were lies, and Taeyong saw through them all. How could he ever trust him after all that? All the things he said to keep his own heart safe, to keep himself from getting hurt, telling Taeyong he looked good with Chanyeol, pushing him away, pretending like he didn’t care, reducing him to a good fuck. Jaehyun is the only one who knows why he did those things. Jaehyun is the only one who knows that in the confines of what used to be his home, with his mother in the next room doing everything in her power, in her passive aggressive, manipulative way to shake his resolve, all his doubts slipped away. When he was on the floor with his father's fist teaching him lessons, he remembered Taeyong's gentle hands cupping his face and his pretty lips pressing kisses to all the places bruising red and violent and all his fear slipped away and he was never so sure of anything in his life. He loves Taeyong.

But Taeyong doesn't know that, doesn't trust him. How hurtful that must have been, he thinks.

And Minjun, what a stupid fucking reason for him to have been so upset. How did it matter even if he was with him? Taeyong told him clearly that it had ended, that they were just friends. Jaehyun laughs quietly. He realizes that he was so afraid of losing Taeyong, of losing the last good thing in his life that somehow he forgot to trust him.

And now he’s gone and done the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do. He hurt him, made him cry like that man from Taeyong’s past, and he lets all his hidden thoughts surface. With you, I know that if I say stop, the pain will stop. He hurt me, Hyunnie. I can’t breathe, I can’t stand up.

(I asked you to stop.)

I thought I was stuck in his house and my sister never came to get me. I can’t tonight. Not tonight. I like how you smell, it makes me feel safe. I’m sorry, I’m working on it. I don’t think anyone can love me.

(I asked you to stop, and you didn’t.)

Jaehyun lets himself connect the dots, and he lets himself understand the significance of what he did to Taeyong, what he put him through. How cruel, he thinks. How thoughtless, how stupid. He should have been listening, he should have been careful, how ignorant and childish and utterly cruel. He almost cries, but he keeps the tears back. He feels like that's all it's been for the past twenty four hours, fighting back tears. 

Of course Taeyong wants to end this, he thinks. This is why he’s leaving. And Jaehyun doesn’t have the right to stop him, not anymore. Standing there in front of Taeyong's house, being told he's tearing Taeyong down, he realized with a burning lump in his throat that maybe he isn't good for Taeyong. Maybe his love isn't wanted anymore, because he's done the unthinkable, crossed lines that he never should have crossed, and now all that's left to do is pay for his mistakes.

Atonement is due.

 

Back at the dorm, Taeyong sits at the kitchen table. Donghyuk and Yuta have already arrived, already greeted him, already commented on the dull white of his skin, on the red rimming his eyes. He smiled and dismissed it, and they were polite enough not to push, going into their respective rooms. Taeyong doesn’t want to go into his room, too afraid of remembering all those nights Jaehyun held him close in that bed, all those nights he sighed into Jaehyun skin, let his hands map Jaehyun’s body, let his tongue taste the younger’s skin. He can’t even sit on the couch, because that’s where Jaehyun confessed, half confessed, that’s where he lied to his face.

Now he’s in the kitchen, staring vacantly at a chipped tile, and all he can think of is the first time Jaehyun said I want you all for myself, standing right here, on the other side of the table. He blinks the image away, and another one takes its place. I want to kiss you, he said that morning, so long ago, like he was asking for permission, and Taeyong remembers sitting on the kitchen counter with his legs wrapped around Jaehyun’s hips, kissing him leisurely, intimately. He averts his eyes, and now all he can think about is that night, Jaehyun’s hands on his shoulders, pushing him towards the bedroom, saying something utterly irreverent about old age and working too hard, but there was no bite to his words, only fondness, and Taeyong was so sure he felt it in the way Jaehyun kissed him to keep him from arguing.  

What a pretty lie, Taeyong thinks.

He hears the front door opening, and he wonders who it is, but he already knows those footsteps, already knows. He peers out into the hall, and he watches as Jaehyun’s figure lumbers in, heads towards Taeyong’s room before hesitating, turning around like he’s second guessing himself. That’s when he spots Taeyong in the kitchen, regarding him emotionlessly, like he didn’t just end their relationship that morning.

“Hyung,” he breathes, and his voice does something strange to Taeyong’s chest.

He walks towards Taeyong, pulling out a chair facing Taeyong, pulling off his mask, dropping down into the chair. Taeyong almost gasps, because he forgot about that bruise, he forgot about what that could mean. He keeps the sound down, keeps the question down. He doesn’t want to ask. How does it matter to him? They’re neither friends nor lovers.

“Hyung,” he says, and his voice breaks around the word. “Can I talk to you, please?”

Taeyong just looks at him silently.

“I’ve been thinking all morning, hyung, I… are we really ending this?” he says, and his eyes glimmer with a film of tears being held back.

Taeyong nods. He’s surprised by the finality it carries.

Jaehyun swallows, staring hard at a stain on the table. Taeyong watches him, and for a second he’s shocked at how miserable he looks, but he corrects himself quickly. That can’t be right, he thinks. His eyes follow Jaehyun even as he gets out of the chair, and Taeyong almost releases the breath he’s been holding, but Jaehyun drops to his knees by Taeyong’s feet and that leaves him wide eyed and dumbstruck and the breath catches in his throat. Jaehyun’s hand reaches out as if to rest on Taeyong’s thigh, but then he freezes and draws it back.

“I’m really sorry about what happened last night. I shouldn’t have come to you drunk, I shouldn’t have been in that state. I should have realized sooner that I was hurting you,” he says, and his eyes are wet, tears clinging to his lashes. He blinks furiously, his head hanging low. “I’ll never stop being sorry. Punish me however you see fit, hyung. Leave, if that’s what will make you feel better. I want you to stay, I want… but it doesn’t matter. Whatever you decide is fine.”

Jaehyun looks up at him. “But I have things to say. If you don’t want to hear them, that’s fine, too. But please, hyung, I need you to know that I didn’t lie about how I felt about you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, but I’m in love with you. Right now, I don’t know if that even matters, and it’s probably not something you want to hear, but… now you know. I’m sorry I’m telling you now, like this, and I need you to know that I’m not saying it to get something from you. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to keep loving me. If we’re ending this, I understand why, just… don’t doubt the fact that I love you.”

Taeyong stares at him trying to process the words. I’m sorry, I love you.

“You love me?” he says blandly.

Jaehyun nods.

“Are you lying to me?”

“No, hyung. When I was home… everything just fell into perspective, and I realized. I’m just, I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

Taeyong looks at him longer.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jaehyun says again, and this time he cries. “About everything. I could have made you happy, and I could have been happy with you, but I fucked it all up because I was such a coward. All this time I was hurting you, not just last night, but all this time… I should have been stronger, I should have been better, but I failed you and I’m sorry.”

Taeyong remains silent.

“Thank you for being kind to me for so long, hyung. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you were kind to me, so thank you,” he says.

The front door opens, and Mark’s voice rings out. “Hyungs? Anyone home?”

Taeyong expects Jaehyun to clamber to his feet, but he stays where he is.

Taeyong blinks at him, unable to let his words sink in. He needs to work, he needs to be a capable leader, keep his career safe, keep his life together, and he doesn’t have the strength to think about this. Jaehyun tells him he’s sorry over and over, until Taeyong’s breathing slows from its agitated pace to something calmer.

Mark pokes his head through the kitchen door.

“Hyung?” he says, shocked at what he’s seeing, Jaehyun kneeling at Taeyong’s feet, crying, and Taeyong sitting there with his hands in tight fists on the table, his knuckles white, his lips in a hard line.

“Give us a second,” Taeyong says, his gaze still stuck on that chipped tile. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Mark’s eyes flickering between his hyungs, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the room, and then he slips away. Taeyong finds himself strangely satisfied with the thought of someone else having seen Jaehyun on his knees. It feels like someone knows, someone has acknowledged the fact that Jaehyun fucked up, that he did something bad, and it soothes him like sharing a secret.

“You have more things to say?” he asks.

Jaehyun nods.

“I… can’t right now, okay?” Taeyong breathes. “I hear you… and I know that you didn’t mean to do that. But you’ve hurt me in more ways than that, Jaehyun, and it just served as a wakeup call that our relationship is unhealthy. It just made me realize that I don’t trust you, and I don’t feel secure with you, and even now I don’t believe you. I’ll think about what you said when I feel like I can handle it. Right now I can’t. Right now, we’re nothing to each other, alright?”

Jaehyun nods slowly, miserably, but there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I can wait,” he says. “As long as you want, I’ll wait.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of non-con ahead.

Jaehyun stays carefully out of Taeyong’s way. He knows his presence makes things difficult for the leader, difficult to do his job and stay positive for the rest of the group, and he shrinks away from Taeyong to keep him happy. The others begin to notice, sort of, but Jaehyun is careful not to make it obvious. The only one who really knows something’s wrong is Mark, and he doesn’t breathe a word to anyone.

Trouble arrives when Donghyuk innocently falls asleep in Jaehyun’s bed one night, and Jaehyun finds himself stuck. He doesn’t want to send him back to his room and end up letting him know that there’s friction in the group. He can’t do what he used to do and sleep in Taeyong’s room. He’s stuck, so he sighs to himself, gathers up a spare blanket, and curls up stiffly on their tiny couch. He’s too tall for couches. Hell, he’s too tall for beds, sometimes, and when he wakes up the next morning, ten minutes earlier than they’re supposed to because he doesn’t want anyone to know he slept on the couch, he’s shivering and sore all over.

He doesn’t mind. It’s the only option, because Taeyong doesn’t want him anywhere close, and he deserves that.

 

Taeyong works himself to the bone. Without Jaehyun in his life, trying to bear the weight of a broken past, of broken trust, of a broken heart, Taeyong finds that the only thing keeping him going is work. He throws himself in, whole heartedly, making sure he’s so fucking tired at the end of the day, the only thing he can do when he climbs into bed is fall asleep. No energy to think, to reminisce, to resent.

He’s shut himself off, and it feels like those days when they had all just started out, and he was too shy to talk to anyone. He’s there to guide the younger members, to ease their burden when practice hours wear their will down, to make sure someone’s listening when they’re tired and alone, but that’s it. He does his job, and he’s out. It feels good, he feels like he has a purpose, and that feels good.

He doesn’t think about the fact that nobody’s there to listen when he’s tired and alone, and he doesn’t think about how that role belonged to Jaehyun all these years. Right from the start, he was the only one who reached out and got to know him, who stood by him through everything and opened him up and forged their friendship. It felt amazing, he remembers, having Jaehyun to talk to, having him to lean on, especially after he became NCT U’s leader. Sometimes he finds himself wishing Jaehyun had never kissed him that day, and they’d never slept together, that their relationship had never strayed from the territory of just friends.

He wishes with his entire heart that he’d never fallen in love with his best friend.

 

Taeyong knows Jaehyun is deliberately staying away. He’s relieved, because he still hasn’t found the strength to deal with their equation. He sees the way the younger seems to grow smaller every time they share space, every time Taeyong walks into the room, Jaehyun grows quieter, drifts to the periphery of the group, making himself as unobstrusive as possible.

He doesn’t interact with Taeyong, only offering quiet support, fixing his collar, a stray strand of hair, leaving a bottle of cold water by his feet when he collapses into a weary heap in the practice rooms. Taeyong wakes up one night and realizes that he fell asleep with the lights on, and then he realizes that Donghyuk isn’t in his bed. The small bed across the room is quite clearly empty, and with a vague understanding, he realizes what must have happened. Briefly, he wonders where Jaehyun is, and then he shakes the thought away. He doesn’t care, he reminds himself. Whether he’s been sleeping in his own bed or the fucking street, Taeyong doesn’t want to care.

 

Jaehyun tries his best to take care of Taeyong any way he can.

He sees the way his hyung’s mouth stays in a tight line whenever he’s around, quiet, a dense six inch wall of silence around him, and for a moment it feels like he’s stepped back a couple of years into the past, and he’s seeing that closed off, distant Taeyong again. Practice has started for their comeback, and they can’t help being forced together again, but this time instead of the promise of a beautiful friendship pulling them together, there’s the memory of something broken and ugly driving them apart. He knows Taeyong doesn’t want to be there.

He works twice as hard in practice so Taeyong won’t have to spend extra hours correcting his mistakes. Extra hours alone with Jaehyun, that is, because Taeyong spends at least three hours in the studio practicing by himself after everyone has left. Jaehyun loiters in the hallway quietly waiting after Taeyong because he doesn’t want to leave him alone. The one night he didn’t wait, Taeyong fell asleep curled up on the floor in the practice room and didn’t come back to the dorm for hours, leaving Jaehyun a worried mess. When he did come home, he seemed so tired, fragile almost, he didn’t even make it back to his own room. He just passed out on the couch. Jaehyun had to hoist him up carefully, quietly, lay him down in his bed, cover him up with blankets, aching to leave a soft little kiss on the tip of his nose. He didn’t.

So Jaehyun waits, every day, making sure Taeyong doesn’t notice his presence and feel uncomfortable, making sure Taeyong gets home and falls asleep in a proper bed with proper covers instead of a cold, hard practice room floor, or at the kitchen table in the middle of a late dinner, or on the living room couch because he’s just so tired these days, too tired to take another step.

 

Another night, Taeyong sits up in bed in the middle of the night, his heart hammering an uneven pace, terrified, his breath coming in short gasps. He knows he’s been dreaming, and he doesn’t remember the dream, but he knows what it must have been about because he knows this terror. He gets out of bed with a deliberate deep breath, needing water and air and light. He lets himself out of his room, quietly stepping into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water and sipping it slowly, forcing himself to calm down.

“Hyung?”

It’s soft, it’s Jaehyun’s voice, and Taeyong tenses up. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up, meets Jaehyun’s worried eyes. He wishes he’d done a better job of wiping away his tears.

“I’m fine,” Taeyong says. “Go back to sleep.”

Jaehyun looks at him wordlessly, his hand burning Taeyong where it rests against his shoulder. Taeyong can’t help it, can’t resist, when Jaehyun looks at him as if he’s asking permission to hold him, he’s vulnerable and miserable and he can’t resist. There’s an almost tangible tension between them, and he remembers this from that time they kissed in a dark little space at a photoshoot. He knows how pathetic he looks right now, but he just wants to feel a little better so he shifts a little closer, until Jaehyun gets the hint and tentatively wraps his arms around Taeyong’s waist.

It’s nothing like the tight hugs he’s used to getting from Jaehyun, but it’s something, and Taeyong hides himself in the spaces Jaehyun makes, the circle of his arms, the crook of his neck, and his body relaxes, his heart slows, and air reaches his lungs. He can feel Jaehyun softly kissing his hair, and he stays there passively, being held, his own arms lying by his sides, unwilling to return the embrace. This is solely comfort, he decides. Strange, so fucking strange because he was sure he didn’t trust Jaehyun, but his familiar scent and his warmth calm him instinctively, and he’s left wondering at that. Pathetic, because he finds that he’s missed this, almost physically, he’s missed being in Jaehyun’s arms, but he laughs it off, calls himself a fool, and pushes those thoughts away.

When he feels stronger, he pulls away and squares his shoulders again.

“I’m fine,” he says, and this time it sounds convincing.

Jaehyun nods, pulling his arms back.

Taeyong looks like he wants to say something, so Jaehyun waits.

“Why are you up?” he asks, after a long moment.

“I heard someone in the kitchen, I just…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Taeyong nods. “Let’s go back to bed,” he says.

When they’re walking back to their rooms, he finds that Jaehyun turns towards the living room, and he stops in his tracks, realizing where Jaehyun has been sleeping all those days he woke up and found Donghyuk’s bed empty.

“Is Donghyuk in your bed again tonight?” he asks, and he doesn’t know why, it’s not like he needs to care.

Jaehyun pauses, looks like he’s trying to come up with something to say, and then he nods as if settling on that for sheer lack of energy to think of something else. Taeyong blinks at him, and then says goodnight, and goes back to his room. He doesn’t invite Jaehyun in, because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want him close. But he falls asleep wondering how cold it must be in the living room.

 

Jaehyun clings to those few moments that Taeyong allows him close. When he let Jaehyun hug him that night, he was so hesitant, so afraid of being pushed away, but he held him, part sefless, part selfish, treasuring the tickle of Taeyong’s hair against his cheek. But he knows he was only allowed close that day because Taeyong was so vulnerable, and he remembers clearly the way Taeyong pulled away from him the moment he felt calm again, the way he put him back in his place and went back to his room. He misses him, he misses him terribly, and all he wants is another excuse to hold him close.

 

 

Taeyong wakes up again, and he wonders how the hell he got to his bed in the first place. He’s almost sure he passed out on the couch. He’s quickly distracted from the thought by the stuffiness in his nose and his watery eyes. But these aren’t the terrified tears he’s grown used to waking up to, these are his allergies flaring up. He reaches over to the nightstand for the box of tissues he keeps there, only to find hs fingers grabbing at air. He sighs, rolls out of bed, tries to fumble around in the dark so he doesn’t wake Donghyuk, but then he accidentally knocks over a bottle of water, the thud echoing loudly in the cramped space. He waits for that familiar groan and Donghyuk’s voice mumbling out a groggy “Hyung?” but it doesn’t come.

He squints toward Donghyuk’s bed, realizing that once again, he’s alone in his room.

He turns the lights on, locates the tissue, finds a cetirizine, too, and settles down in his bed hoping he’d get a good night’s sleep. God knows he hasn’t had one in quite a while.

Like a massive fuck you, think again falling from the sky, at that exact moment, he sneezes. He grins to himself, somewhat amused by this revival of his childhood affliction, somewhat relieved that isn’t something worse. He wonders what brought it back, and he thinks perhaps it’s because he’s been falling asleep everywhere, dusty couches and floors and no wonder his nose is going crazy. It’s been fucking cold, too, to top it all off.

For a split second he’s thinking of Jaehyun trying to sleep in the very place that made him sick.

For a split second he’s worried.

He sits up, wondering if he’s obliged to give a shit at this point. Maybe, as leader, he thinks he might be responsible for the health of his members. Maybe he’s obligated to take care of Jaehyun, as just another member. He sighs, debating for a moment longer before he gets out of bed again.

Every step he takes towards the living room leaves a building regret in his gut, wishing he had just stayed in bed. But the moment he enters the living room, and he goes around the back of the couch, and he sees that talls figure curled up and shivering under a familiar grey fuzzy blanket, he knows he’s doing the right thing.

He sits quietly on the couch, squeezing into the little space Jaehyun has left empty, and rests one hesitant hand on his shoulder.

“Jaehyun?” he calls out, and the younger stirs, pulling his blanket down from where it’s pulled up to his eyes. He blinks sleepily for second, and then he focuses on Taeyong’s face and he sits up hurriedly.

“Hyung,” he whispers, his hands coming up to cup Taeyong’s face, his face twisting with worry. Taeyong blinks at him, trying to figure out why the younger is freaking out so much when he feels his eyes watering and his nose tickling with another sneeze, and that’s when it dawns on him.

He chuckles, and Jaehyun’s expression is priceless, something between worried and puzzled, and his little chuckle becomes a full laugh.

“Jaehyun, it’s just allergies. I’m not crying, don’t worry,” he says, biting back a smile.

“Aller – are you serious?” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong laughs again, nodding.

“You’re okay, then?” Jaehyun asks, and Taeyong nods again. Jaehyun’s tense shoulders relax, and his hands slip away and he falls back onto the couch with a relieved chuckle.

For a moment everything’s fine, Jaehyun is being the same kind of overprotective idiot that Taeyong fell in love with and Taeyong is laughing, the same laugh Jaehyun fell in love with, and everything feels normal. Like it did before any of this happened, like the warm memories they share.

Taeyong speaks when a soft silence settles between them. “Why won’t you just tell Donghyuk to sleep in his own damn bed?” he asks.

“Because then he’ll think we’re fighting, and I don’t want him to worry about us,” Jaehyun replies.

Another silence settles before Taeyong speaks again.

“It’s cold,” he says. “Come inside.”

Jaehyun looks up at him. “Hyung,” he says softly. “You don’t have to do that, I’m fine here.”

Taeyong shakes his head, his fingers briefly pushing Jaehyun’s soft raven hair out of his face before pulling his hand back like he realized his mistake.

“You’ll get sick,” he says curtly. “Sleep inside.”

He gets to his feet quickly, turns around and hurries off to his room, and behind him he hears Jaehyun gathering his things slowly, as if needing a moment for it to register. The younger follows him into the room and closes the door behind him. Taeyong feels a gentle tug on his sleeve, and he freezes.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jaehyun whispers. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jaehyun,” Taeyong replies.

 

A couple of days pass, and every night, Jaehyun pauses outside the bedroom door as if he’s still asking permission, and Taeyong nods and smiles, and that’s when he comes in. It’s crazy, it feels cruel and he feels like some tyrannical monster, but he needs that space, and he’s glad Jaehyun respects him enough to understand that, to know that he needs Taeyong’s permission to enter his space.

They don’t talk much, just the basic hyung-dongsaeng formalities, but it’s still a step up from where they were a few days before that. Sometimes Taeyong finds himself drifting into memories of his journey with Jaehyun. Strangers, friends, best friends, best friends with benefits, but god it was so complicated. How could they have expected it to be smooth sailing when there were so many things to fight, so many things to hide, when Taeyong was in love with Jaehyun, and Jaehyun was unlearning shame, when both had pasts holding them back?

It was still good, he remembers. For the most part, it was wonderful, having Jaehyun with him as a best friend and half a lover, it was great. Learning that Jaehyun, that fucking teenager, could be the best sex Taeyong had ever had, that was fun, too, he thinks sometimes with something nearning amusement. But he supposes if he thinks hard enough, if he looks back, he can see the signs he ignored back then. All the signs of a decaying relationship.

The fact that it began with a lie. Jaehyun knew about his feelings and he pretended not to, built a relationship on a lie. And then there were all those times Jaehyun got scared and pushed him away, all those times he treated him like something dispensible, and Taeyong let him for fear of Jaehyun leaving him. All those words he swallowed just so they wouldn’t fight. All the signs were right there, the beginnings of distrust, of decay. He sees them now.

New circumstances, a shock to Taeyong’s carefully constructed life, and he was falling apart, and his best friend came back to keep him together. Silly them, he thinks. Where did they go from there? Instead of correcting their mistakes, they forgot all aout them, made a few more. They fit together so naturally, of course they did, they were best friends. And then they pretended to be lovers, and the dream was so perfect but it was so silly. How could they be lovers when their whole relationship was built around smothered feelings, smothered truths, how could they hope to trust each other?

And now he says he loves him. Taeyong blinks up at the ceiling. More than a month has passed since they returned, since that awful night. That suffocating hurt has passed, somewhat. It still hurts when he remembers that night, still brings tears to his eyes, but he can stay standing now, he can keep himself together. For a while, he was angry, so fucking angry with Jaehyun, with himself, with everyone and everything, and he made sure Jaehyun sensed it, that he didn’t care for his apology. He’s calmer now, more in control of himself, and he doesn’t know how it happened.

He wonders if he can dare himself to look at their relationship, look at where they went wrong. He wonders if he’s strong enough to think about it now, his apology, his confession, everything he said. If he has enough faith in himself to be sure that he won’t slip again.

He laughs quietly. He’s already thinking about it, he realizes, the image of Jaehyun on his knees, confessing, begging for forgiveness, willing to do anything to fix their relationship, clear in his mind. Every last detail committed to memory, the chipped tile, the coffee stained wood of their kitchen table, Mark’s voice.

The violent red and purple of Jaehyun’s skin.

He still hasn’t asked. He knows, he realizes that it must have been his father’s doing, but he never asked. He must have told them, he realizes. He must have told them, and that means Jaehyun isn’t hiding anymore, that means he was committed to what they had, he was keeping his promises. Does that mean he was telling the truth? He loves him? Enough to tell his parents and take their violence and still seek him out at the end of the day? Why is that so fucking hard to believe?

He used to trust him, he remembers. He’d trust Jaehyun with his life, he knew for a fact that Jaehyun would never hurt him, never lie to him, and somewhere, somehow, without either of them noticing, it fell apart.

Now he’s sorry, he says, and he’s paying for his mistakes. He waits for Taeyong every day after practice. He thinks Taeyong doesn’t know, but he knows, he noticed, he’s heard from the other members that Jaehyun stays behind after they leave. He knows now how he ends up in bed even when he’s sure he never made it back. He knows that Jaehyun still cares for him, always cared for him, he sees it in the worry, the fear in Jaehyuh’s eyes when he thinks Taeyong’s been dreaming again, he can feel it in the way he holds him. Perhaps. He doesn’t know for sure. Maybe he’s being delusional, maybe it’s all a lie.

It’s time for truth, he thinks. Enough lies, enough of this, they’ve ruined their relationship, they’ve ruined themselves with their lies.

 

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong calls out, blinking up at the ceiling, dry eyed again.

“Yes hyung?” Jaehyun’s voice from across the dark room.

“You’re sorry? Really fucking sorry, and you’ll never put me through that again?” Taeyong asks.

For a moment Jaehyun doesn’t say anything.

“You know I am, hyung,” he says softly. Taeyong’s chest is rising and falling with deliberately slow, deep breaths.

“Tell me what happened that night,” he says. The air between them turns tense.

“Hyung, I… didn’t realize what was happening, because it was so sudden, and I still don’t really understand what happened, but I know that I was drunk, so it took me some time to realize that something wasn’t right, and I should have stopped immediately. That shouldn’t have happened. I should never have come to you like that.”

Taeyong screws his eyes shut, tears stinging behind his eyelids again. He’s back there for a moment, and then he pulls himself back.

“Why did you, then?” he chokes out.

Jaehyun breathes out slowly.

“I don’t want to say it. It’s going to sound like an excuse, and I won’t make excuses. It doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t have happened.”

Taeyong relaxes a little, Jaehyun’s patience and his sincerity calming him.

“Why did you drink so much?” he asks.

“Hyung, please, it doesn’t matter,” he begs.

Taeyong pauses. He’ll ask him what really matters then.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he says. A few moments pass in terse silence.

“I… my parents found out. My mother saw the video. Of you and me, we were kissing. She got really upset and she told me if I didn’t stop talking to you, she’d tell everyone about you, that you’re gay. She didn’t tell dad or show him the video, thank god, but effectively, I couldn’t call you…” Jaehyun trails off.

“I felt so shitty, hyung, and I needed you, telling me that I’m right, not them. And I wanted to talk to you, so bad, but I couldn’t. And then my friend came over unannounced one time when dad wasn’t home, and mom didn’t know what to do, so she let me go out, and I went out with him and told him I needed to go somewhere, cover for me if mom calls. That was the day I came to you. I needed you so bad, but I didn’t want to tell you all this and make you worry again, so I just… I had to leave because mom started calling and I had to leave. I wasn’t…”

“Using me?” Taeyong provides, slowly trying to wrap his mind around all this information.

“I wasn’t,” Jaehyun says. “I went home, after that, and she said I smell different, and she asked me if I went to see you, and I told her no, I didn’t. She didn’t buy it, and she just kept getting angrier. When dad came home, I sat them both down and told them I’m gay. He was so angry, hyung, he said he wouldn’t let me come back here, he hit me, and I got scared, and I just let him do it. But I kept thinking of you, hyung. I kept thinking of how brave you made me, and I told myself I’d stand up to them, and I did. I told dad this is who I am, this is my life, and these are my choices, you and this career and I won’t let them fuck it up.

He hit me again, so I… I hit him back.”

“What?” Taeyong says blankly, barely registering everything Jaehyun said.

“I hit him back. He said such cruel things, hyung. His ugly fucking mouth just kept moving, and I couldn’t stop myself. And then I left. I took as much of my stuff as I could fit in my bag and I left. I tried calling you, and you wouldn’t answer… but… yeah. That’s what happened.”

Taeyong lies there in silence. All those days he spent waiting for Jaehyun to call, and Jaehyun was suffering, quietly suffering. It just won’t register. He swallows.

“But what?” he says.

“Nothing, that’s it.”

“Stop lying to me,” Taeyong says, and he sounds tired, too tired for more lies. A few more moments pass in silence but Taeyong’s mind is buzzing, still trying to let it all sink in.

“But,” Jaehyun says hesitantly. “Your SNS had a picture of you and Minjun and it said happy birthday to my favorite person, and I thought you were with him. After everything I did, I felt like I lost my family and you were with Minjun, your favorite person, and I felt so fucking alone. I needed you, so bad, I needed somewhere to go, somewhere to belong, and I couldn’t get in touch with you. I just felt so alone,” he says.

Taeyong’s heart sinks, twisting in his stomach, tightening in his throat, stinging in his eyes. He doesn’t know if he’s miserable or angry.

“I wasn’t - that was…”

“It doesn’t matter, hyung. You don’t have to justify anything,” he says. “I should have trusted you, I was wrong. I’m just telling you because you asked,” Jaehyun says, and he sounds tired too.

Taeyong speaks, feeling drained of all energy and emotion.

“Jaehyun, be quiet. Listen to me. That was an old picture. I wasn’t with him when you called, I was out with my cousins. Minjun is in Hong Kong, and I haven’t met him since that day at the dorm. Even if I had, he’s a good friend, that’s it, you know that.”

Taeyong hears a sniffle from across the room.

“I do, hyung,” Jaehyun says. “I was just being an idiot, because I felt like I had nowhere to go.”

“What did you do?”

“I called my friend, and I drank, I drank too much. I shouldn’t have come to you like that, but I couldn’t help it, hyung, I just needed to see you and I needed someone to tell me I’d be okay with no home and no family. I’m sorry…”

Taeyong grits his teeth, trying to hold back a sob because the memory is raw in his mind again, but this time there’s so much around it, so much he assumed that turned out to be untrue. He does love him, he stood up to his parents, he tried his best, but things got out of hand. They fucked up, they both fucked up, and Jaehyun dealt the final blow.

“I was so angry,” he sobs, covering his face with his hands and curling up. “I felt so betrayed, I…”

Sheets rustle and a second passes before arms wrap around Taeyong and hold him close. Taeyong lets himself be held, lets himself cry into Jaehyun’s chest, whispers of I’m sorry buried in his skin. He doesn’t know how long it is before he calms down, but Jaehyun holds him. When he can breathe, he whispers, “Hyunnie?”

Jaehyun hums.

“I understand, Hyunnie. I’m sorry, I… you’ve been through a lot, I’m sorry. The whole time you didn’t call, I thought maybe you didn’t feel anything for me after all, and I felt so betrayed and used, and after that day it just got worse and that night I think it all just snowballed, everything, you, my past, everything. It was misunderstandings and miscommunications and it was a lot of fuckups. And for what it’s worth, I wish I could have been there for you, when you were struggling. I wish you had just told me that day.”

There’s silence, for a beat, and then Jaehyun speaks. “I wished you’d come for me,” he says. His voice is painfully raw. “The whole time I was in that house, I just kept hoping you’d be worried that I wasn’t calling and you’d just show up and tell my parents to fuck off, and just take me with you. I know that’s not rational, I know it’s such a cowardly thing to say, but I… just hoped… it’s stupid.”

“You told me not to,” Taeyong says bitterly. “Remember?”

“I didn’t,” Jaehyun replies softly. “I didn’t have my phone, hyung.”

“Your mother,” Taeyong whispers. Jaehyun nods, and Taeyong feels it all finally sinking in, a sick realization settling into his stomach. All this time he spent, angry, betrayed, and he didn’t believe in Jaehyun.

 “Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong breathes. “I’m sorry, I thought… I thought you didn’t call because you didn’t feel anything for me after all. I just felt so used, like you were lying to me… I didn’t think it was like this.”

“You didn’t trust me,” Jaehyun says softly. Taeyong swallows, opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but Jaehyun cuts him off. “It’s alright, hyung, I didn’t give you much to trust. I… don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry, not you.”

A strained silence descends between them.

“What do we do now?” Jaehyun says.

“I don’t know, Jaehyun. Just… sleep. We’ll figure it out,” Taeyong replies. “We have so much more to talk about, Hyun. Sleep now.”

Jaehyun falls asleep holding Taeyong.

 

They’re filming their new MV. It’s late afternoon but there’s a chill in the air that rattles Taeyong’s bones. Their shitty outifits aren’t doing a damned thing against the cold. Taeyong finds himself with an intense hatred for fashion and all its impractical bullshit, and between takes, he runs off to hide in the huge padded jacket the coordi noona is holding open for him. He heaves a sigh of relief when his part is wrapped up.

Jaehyun goes next. Taeyong watches him reluctantly getting out of his jacket, making his way over. His hair has been dyed a pretty blonde for their new concept, and Taeyong can’t take his eyes off. Jaehyun has never had light hair, always choosing darker, more natural shades, so this is quite a shock. Taeyong wonders if the bleach has damaged it, if it still feels as soft, as soothing to touch, remembering what it felt like to run his fingers through it, watching Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut. He blinks the thought away, head down, walks back to the rest area.

Just because they talked about things for a couple of hours one night, it doesn’t mean everything’s fine between them. It doesn’t mean they can jump right back into each other’s arms. They need time, they need to take it slow. They won’t leave any room for any more fuckups.

By the time it gets dark, Taeyong is freezing, and he can feel the sniffling setting in. He scrunches up his face, trying to get his nose to stop itching, and beside him on the tiny sofa, Mark is rubbing his hands together furiously. Taeyong laughs, taking Mark’s hands in his, warming them up and Mark’s teeth chatter exaggeratedly. Donghyuk whines from across the room, Hyung he’s from Canada, he should be used to this, what about me?

Taeyong is still laughing at Mark when he feels someone settling down next to him on the armrest. He turns, and his gaze meets Jaehyun’s, blonde hair falling into his eyes, piercings glinting in the harsh fluorescent light, and Taeyong remembers when he first got them, what all that metal felt like against his tongue. Jaehyun reaches out and takes his hand, and Taeyong holds his breath, his eyes widening, only relaxing when Jaehyun presses a warm cup of coffee to Taeyong’s palm.

Taeyong smiles softly, not meaning to, not realizing that he’s smiling, and only when Jaehyun grins back and leaves to talk to the PD about something does he realize his face is warm.

 

Taeyong sniffles. He's lying in bed, rolled up tight in his blankets like the world's most miserable burrito, because he's gone and caught a cold, probably from that shitty MV filming out in the open at fuck o'clock. He has the day off from practice and he doesn't know what the fuck to do with himself. He wants company, he wants attention, he wants someone to pet his hair and coo at him and he really, really wants to cry because he's tired and sick and the only thing keeping him alive was work and now he can't even fucking work. He closes his eyes, and they feel like sandpaper, and he can't breathe because it feels like his nose is in his throat.

He jumps when he feels a soft hand against his forehead. He opens his eyes, a blurry version of Jaehyun coming into focus. 

"Eat something," Jaehyun whispers.

Taeyong shakes his head.

"Come on, I've made porridge. It's my grandma's recipe," he says. 

"Is it any good?" Taeyong says, only asking because Jaehyun bothered to make it.

"It's gross," Jaehyun says. "But that's a good thing. The worse it tastes, the better it is for your health. My grandma taught me that, too."

Taeyong cracks a smile. He doesn't want to smile, really, but Jaehyun is just precious. He sits up slowly, fighting off his blankets, and Jaehyun chuckles softly at him. Taeyong holds his hands out and Jaehyun passes the bowl to him, watching his hyung swirling the porridge around with his spoon a couple of times before eating a spoonful. He pulls a face.

"Disgusting?" Jaehyun asks.

"Positively," Taeyong says with a smile.

Jaehyun chuckles. "It's good for you," he says, his hand brushing Taeyong's hair out of his face before cupping his cheek. Taeyong looks up at him. 

"You turn into such a baby when you're sick, hyung," Jaehyun says, and Taeyong smiles. He supposes that's a little true. Jaehyun draws his hand back and settles down next to him.

"You'll get sick, too," Taeyong says. 

"Eat your porridge, hyung," Jaehyun says dismissively.

And Taeyong does, thankful for the fact that Jaehyun is here, that he doesn't feel so alone, that he doesn't have to spend his time being consumed by all the things he's running from and he can just spend it talking to Jaehyun instead. 

"Thank you," he says, handing over an empty bowl, and he's not just thanking him for the porridge from hell.

 

Taeyong is practicing by himself again, but he finds his focus drifting, his moves automatic and just a little sloppy. He’s a little surprised, a little annoyed, and he realizes that he isn’t paying attention because he’s wondering if Jaehyun is still waiting for him. He scrubs at his eyes hoping that would disperse the thought, but he’s just too curious.

 

Jaehyun is just getting off the phone when the practice room door swings open down the hall, the familiar creak of unoiled hinges echoing in the empty hallway. He closes his eyes for a second, willing himself not to cry, not to scream, willing his back straight and shoulders broad and chin high.

“Jaehyun?”

It’s Taeyong’s voice.

Jaehyun opens his eyes and turns to Taeyong with a smile. “Hyung,” he says.

“Are you waiting for me again?”

“You knew?” Jaehyun asks sheepishly.

Taeyong nods.

“Damn, I thought I was being real smooth, taking care of you without you knowing and everything,” he says with a chuckle. Taeyong cracks a smile, but Jaehyun sees an odd look in his eyes. “Do you want me to leave?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “You don’t have to wait for me. Or take care of me. You know that, right?”

Jaehyun smiles softly. “I want to,” he says. He laughs a little to lighten the mood, and he adds, “I’m fine here hyung. Go practice, I’ll wait. We don’t have to go home together today or anything, I’ll take a separate cab back just like the other times, don’t worry I won’t bother you…”

He’s cut off by his own tongue when he trips over his words, because Taeyong steps closer to him, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Jaehyun’s shoulders, letting them link behind his neck, just a loose, awkward hug, comfort implied. Jaehyun hugs Taeyong back hesitantly, unsure if this is allowed when it’s not about comforting Taeyong.

“Was that your father?” Taeyong says softly. “On the phone, was that your dad?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says.

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to let me know that he’s cutting me off. He met his lawyer today, apparently, had me removed from the will. I’m not getting any of his money.”

Taeyong holds him tighter, and Jaehyun reciprocates, turning his head into the crook of Taeyong’s neck, resting there.

“You told your father to go fuck himself?” Taeyong mumbles.

Jaehyun nods. “I don’t want his fucking money anyway,” he says evenly, comforted even by Taeyong’s sweaty skin.

“You’re upset,” Taeyong says.

“I am,” Jaehyun replies.

Taeyong pulls back and looks up at him, his hand softly brushing Jaehyun’s hair out of his eyes, and he looks like he wants to say don’t be upset, fuck him, you’ll always have me, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe Jaehyun imagined it, maybe he’s desperate, but he really thinks that’s what Taeyong wants to say.

He smiles. “Go, practice,” he says.

Taeyong shakes his head. “I’m done,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

 

Jaehyun stirs sleepily. There’s movement, too much movement, and he’s cold all of a sudden. He opens his eyes, and Taeyong is standing there, pulling the covers back with trembling hands, eyes wide and went and his whole body shaking like a leaf. Jaehyun shifts, helping him with the covers, letting him slide into his bed. He tucks him under his arm, holds him to his chest, one hand cradling his head, the other running soothingly over his back. He’s awake now, despite the fact that this has happened before and it’s almost habit now, holding his hyung till he calms down, he still feels his heart hammering and his brow knitting with worry.

“I can’t do this,” Taeyong whispers. “I can’t do this anymore, I need help.”

“Hyung,” Jaehyun says softly. “Breathe, come here, just breathe. Talk to me, hyung, please.”

“I was raped,” Taeyong breathes, clutching at Jaehyun’s shirt. “He raped me, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s heart stops, his breath stops, and his stomach turns. There’s that strange buzzing in his ears again. Truth, he thinks, holding Taeyong tighter. It’s time for the truth.

 

“I need to tell you,” Taeyong whispers after a long time, after his body stops shaking.

Jaehyun shifts a little, and Taeyong knows that means he’s alert now, listening. He doesn’t know if this is too sudden, if Jaehyun even wants to know, but he needs to tell him.

“When I was fourteen, I went… I was sent to live with my uncle for a summer. My parents, they were having some issues, and I wasn’t the easiest kid to handle, you know how much I’ve fucked up… I mean the whole fucking world knows, but yeah, they sent me away for a while.”

“Your uncle?”

“The one who passed away, yeah. It was horrible in the beginning, I felt like my family didn’t want me, and that felt like shit. But he was really nice, you know? Very kind, he used to listen to me, and I wasn’t used to that, it felt amazing. I needed to talk to someone, too, because I felt like I liked boys, and I was so confused and scared, but my parents didn’t have the time to talk and it was so fucked up… I… he really came in at the right time and he used to listen to me and he didn’t judge, I remember, he made kimchi jjigae and we sat and ate in the kitchen after I told him, and he told me, kid it’s all cool, and it felt amazing.”

Taeyong stops, swallows, and Jaehyun’s arms tighten around him. “Go on,” he says. He’s afraid, he’s afraid of the words, of the memories, of how Jaehyun will react.

“And after that things started getting a little weird. I mean, he used to hug me, a lot, but I figured maybe he was just an affectionate man, and he used to tell me I’m handsome, and I liked it, a lot. I don’t know how… He used to do this thing, when he’d put his hand on my thigh and sometimes he’d… He asked me once if I had ever kissed a man, and I said no, and he told me if I wanted to, I could try it on him. He said maybe I wouldn’t be so confused, then, I could just see what it felt like? He said it would be our secret. And I don’t know why, I think I just liked the attention, but I agreed, and I kissed him, and it felt… good, I remember,” he says. He’s starting to tremble again. “That’s fucked up, isn’t it? All kinds of twisted, right?”

“Hyung, you were a kid,” Jaehyun says softly.

“I was. Yeah, you’re right, I probably didn’t know better. That’s what they said, I didn’t know better, and it wasn’t my fault,” he reminds himself. The words are coming now, the truth is rising to the surface and all the words are tumbling out now. The images are seared clearly into his mind.

“He uh, he touched me once, I, god I… I didn’t really like it, but I didn’t say anything then, I didn’t know I could. I still remember what it felt like, his breath on my neck, I didn’t like it. But later he came into my room again and I said it feels wrong, please don’t do it, so he just told me not to worry, it’s no big deal, stuff like this happens all the time and he only did it because I was so pretty. He was so normal about it, and I got to thinking maybe stuff like this did happen and I was just overreacting.

“He came back, the next night, and he tried again, but I said no because I didn’t really like it, you know, and he said I should be grateful that he took me in and that nobody else wanted me. He said my parents didn’t want me, he asked me where I’d go if it weren’t for him. He said he was the only one who cared about me, he said he’d take care of me, so I should take care of him, too. I let him, that night, I let him put his fingers inside. I thought it would end there, I thought it was over, but… I thought it was over, and then…” Taeyong stops and takes a deep shuddering breath. Jaehyun is holding him close, so close. He clings to Jaehyun desperately, because he needs strength to say this, he needs the strength he used to have.

Taeyong continues.

“And then he drank, a lot, he was a monster Jaehyun… I was in the bathroom and he came in and he was such a monster, I told him I didn’t want to anymore, and he wouldn’t listen. I thought he was so nice, I thought if I told him he’d listen but he got angry at me, and he, uh, he raped me. That sounds so… He… it hurt a lot, and i tried to scream but he choked me, he told me not to make a sound, and I was so scared. I don’t know what happened, Hyunnie, I don’t remember what happened, really, and it took me a long time to admit it, but he raped me. I felt so dirty, and I… he bit my lips and I bled, I remember that, I remember my whole mouth tasted like blood and soju and I hated it so much.”

Taeyong stops, because Jaehyun sobs quietly.

“Jaehyun?” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, curling further into Taeyong’s body. Taeyong can feel moisture on the side of his neck, and he knows Jaehyun is crying. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m so sorry I did that to you, I’m sorry, hyung.”

“I know,” Taeyong says his voice shaking, shifting to face Jaehyun. “I didn’t tell you this for you to feel guilty. I just want you to know, because I want to make this work, and it won’t work if you don’t know this about me. I’m tired, Jaehyun. I want to sleep one full night without this thing tearing me apart. I want to be happy. I want to forgive you and love you and be happy with you, but I don’t know how.”

The younger holds him close, cradles him like he’s something priceless, and Taeyong smiles through his tears, nuzzling into his warmth.

“I need help,” he says into Jaehyun’s shoulder.

“We’ll find a way,” Jaehyun says softly. “We’ll talk to someone, a doctor. Will that help you?”

Taeyong nods. “My sister took me to a psychiatrist after… it helped. A lot. It took fucking forever but I almost had everything figured out, I almost felt normal. I even got together with Minjun and I remember it so clearly, Hyun, I was fucking terrified the first time we had sex, but it was okay, because he was so kind to me and he’s my friend, I was fine. I was completely fine, even after we broke up. You became my best friend and I was falling in love with you, and then finally things started working out for us, and then he had to go fucking die and I had to see his body and everything went to shit.”

“Did Minjun know?” Jaehyun asks.

Taeyong shakes his head. “No one except my sister. Not even my parents.”

“We’ll talk to a doctor hyung. I’m sure we can make it, I’m sure because you’re so strong,” he says.

Taeyong smiles again, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s drained. He’s relieved. Jaehyun knows and he’s willing to stay, willing to fight it out and make it work. He’s happy. Moments pass before Jaehyun speaks.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think… it occurred to me, sort of, that that’s what it was, but then I thought it can’t be… I didn’t know what I thought. I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, clearly keeping a sob out of his voice.

“Stop apologizing,” Taeyong whispers.

“How can I not be sorry, hyung,” Jaehyun says, and he’s a mess, his eyes red with unshed tears.

“It’s over. It’s over, and it was a long time ago, and it just all came back and fucked me up because he had to go and fucking die, and I had to think about it all over again. What happened with you, it was different. You weren’t trying to force me, you weren’t trying have your way. You were just dumb, too drunk to tell your left foot from your right, just slow to realize. That’s what that was, and I can see that now. It shouldn’t have happened, and it will never happen again, but I understand now that it was different, a mistake, and what sets it apart is the fact that you stopped as soon as you realized I didn’t want it. I know now, you won’t ever do that to me again.”

Jaehyun cries silently, inconsolably, and Taeyong tries to soothe him but he won’t stop.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he chants, over and over. “It won’t happen ever again, hyung. I’ll never let myself reach that state again, I won’t ever do that to you.”

“That’s enough for me, Jaehyun. And I’m sorry, too. We’ve both fucked this up, but I care about you, and I care about this relationship too much to let it go. I want to be with you. Without any of this bullshit pulling us own, I want to be with you. This is the last time we’re sorry about what happened in these past months. We’re not going to hurt each other anymore, and we’re not going to be sorry for a single damned thing.”

 

They’re walking out of their fifth session with the psychiatrist when Taeyong suddenly stops and throws his arms around Jaehyun’s shoulders. Jaehyun staggers back with the sudden weight in his arms, but he wraps his arms around Taeyong and steadies them.

“Thank you,” Taeyong whispers.

Jaehyun smiles, nuzzling the side of Taeyong’s neck.

They spoke to their manager a couple of weeks before, told him Taeyong is experiencing severe anxiety and insomnia and he needs to get help so he can work better. Jaehyun argued and bargained and said there would be no compromise on work hours, they’d just need a couple of hours off per week. The manager couldn’t argue because he himself had noticed that Taeyong was getting paler every day, that his eyes were sunken and his skin dull, that he was more fidgety than he’d ever known him to be, more closed off than he’d ever seen him. And he knew that Taeyong worked harder than anyone he knew, so he paid attention. The company arranged for a psychiatrist, all hush-hush, because they couldn’t have anyone finding out that the leader of NCT 127 was having a breakdown.

Taeyong was terrified that first day of therapy. Jaehyun went with him, his hand stuck in Taeyong’s vise grip the whole time. It turned out that the psychiatrist was a lovely, kind, woman, and she kept their sessions confidential, maintaining to the management that she was treating him for anxiety, telling them only what Taeyong allowed her to. Taeyong relaxed slowly, and by the third session, he was comfortable talking to her by himself. Jaehyun still went with him, just in case, just waiting outside. He was prescribed medication, too, and he had jut started taking it. It would be a couple of weeks before its effects would show, the doctor said.

And now here they are. Jaehyun doesn’t know what happened in there, because he was waiting outside, but it seems to have made a huge difference to Taeyong. He holds him, not caring about the fact that despite being in a deserted hallway, they might be seen, just holding his hyung, happy for the first time in a long time.

Taeyong pulls back a little, just enough for Jaehyun to feel his breath on his lips, but he stays there with his eyes closed, too scared to close the gap. Jaehyun smiles, tightens his hold around Taeyong, and turns a little to press a soft kiss to Taeyong’s cheek.

When they pull away completely, Taeyong is smiling.

“I want to do this right,” he says. Jaehyun looks at him, urging him to continue.

“Jung Jaehyun,” he says. “I really, really like you, I might love you, maybe, I’m not committing to anything, but… Go out with me?”

Jaehyun laughs and nods. “So I really, really love you, and I’d love to go out with you. How does dinner sound?” he asks.

“Sounds great,” Taeyong replies.

 

It’s late when they return to the dorm, and the whole place is dark and quiet. When they’ve changed and they’re just about to go to bed, Jaehyun hugs Taeyong again. And this time, Taeyong cups his face and kisses him. A soft, chaste thing, their lips pressing together. Jaehyun doesn’t ask for more.

 

It’s a couple of weeks before Taeyong allows a deeper kiss. It happens unexpectedly. They’re in bed together, kissing again, that same gentle kiss, when Taeyong’s lips part. Jaehyun hesitates, and Taeyong has to lick at his mouth to tell him it’s okay. He smiles, remembering the warmth, remembering the velvet texture of his tongue, breathlessly breaking apart just to look at his face before he goes back in for another kiss. They fall asleep with nothing but kisses shared between them.

Jaehyun doesn’t complain. He knows the medication makes him sleepy. And besides, Taeyong’s pace is perfect for him.

 

Taeyong moans breathlessly. His naked body is stretched out under Jaehyun, tall, lean, slimmer than Jaehyun, just a shade darker than Jaehyun’s own skin. Jaehyun kisses him helplessly, too overwhelmed by this sort of intimacy. His fingers are inside Taeyong, moving slow, careful not to hurt him or scare him. Taeyong’s hands are fisting in the sheets, his mouth moving gently against Jaehyuns, his eyes screwed shut. His chest is rising and falling harshly, and Jaehyun stops moving.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Taeyong nods.

Jaehyun presses a kiss to his neck and begins moving again, and Taeyong keens.

This is really happening, he thinks. He doesn’t know how, after everything they’ve done to each other, after everything they’ve been through, he can’t believe this is happening.

It’s been weeks since Taeyong kissed him, and they’ve been moving slow, exploring one comfort zone till Taeyong felt ready for the next step. Jaehyun never asked for more, just happy with what he had till Taeyong gave him more. Chaste kisses to tasting his mouth, from there to wandering hands, running over bare skin, curious mouths, leaving soft kisses and kitten licks over throats and collarbones and chests and abdomens. And then that day after their comeback stage, Taeyong pulled him into his bed with a giddy laugh and let him touch him, hips bucking up, coming into Jaehyun’s hand.

He held him all night after that.

There were lows, too. There were still days he’d cry into Jaehyun’s shoulder, cry the whole night, and Jaehyun would sit there holding him despite the burn in his eyes, the fatigue in his bones. There were times when Taeyong didn’t want him close. When he wanted him close but his body wouldn’t cooperate. That one evening when their kisses got heavier and deeper and Jaehyun’s hand slid down to cup him, but his body wouldn’t react. That day Jaehyun learnt that Prozac can do that, too.

So he’s grateful, overwhelmed, so happy that Taeyong can trust him like this. He watches Taeyong’s back arch off the bed, and then he pushes Jaehyun’s hands away, pushes him onto his back. He straddles his hips, and Jaehyun watchces his every move, committing it all to memory.

 

Taeyong sinks down on him, and Jaehyun is stroking his thighs, slow, patient. Taeyong’s body trembles, his eyes screwed shut, tears clinging to his eyelashes. Redemption, he thinks. This will be redemption. There will be no more blood, no more bruises, no more fear and hate and pleasure in pain. He doesn’t need the pain anymore.

“Hyung, look at me,” Jaehyun says. Taeyong opens his eyes. “Should we stop?”

“No,” Taeyong breathes.

No, the only time he will say that tonight.

“Why are you crying?” Jaehyun says softly.

Taeyong shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun says, buried inside Taeyong, but completely still. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Jaehyun cups his cheek, pulls him down to kiss him wetly, softly, slowly working Taeyong’s mouth open, kissing his pain away. Taeyong breaks the kiss, his palms on Jaehyun’s chest, he lifts his hips and sinks down again. His teeth are digging into his lip, his head hung low, but Jaehyun’s fingers lift his chin, his thumb brushing over his mouth, gently pushing Taeyong’s lips apart, letting Jaehyun’s thumb slip through, just a little.

There will be no pain today. No teeth, no blood, no bitten lips and no bruised skin, because this boy cares.

Taeyong tries again, lifting and falling, but his thighs are trembling, and he can’t breathe, so he falls forward and buries his face in Jaehyun’s neck.

“I can’t,” he whispers.

Jaehyun arms are around him. “Let’s stop,” he says.

Taeyong shakes his head. “I need you to do this for me.”

“Are you sure?” he asks softly. Taeyong nods.

He tightens his hold, rolls them over so Taeyong is under him. He strokes the side of Taeyong’s face lovingly.

“I’m going to push, okay?”

Taeyong nods.

Jaehyun’s hips pull back a little, push back in, and Taeyong makes a soft little sound. Jaehyun exhales shakily. Taeyong’s palms are flat on Jaehyun’s back, holding him close. Jaehyun is mouthing at his neck, his hips pulling back once again, setting a gentle pace. Taeyong gasps with every roll of his hips, whines when Jaehyun lifts his weight off the slim figure underneath him.

“I want to kiss you,” Taeyong whispers.

“I need to see your face,” Jaehyun says. “I need to be sure…”

Taeyong’s lips part, understanding lighting up in his eyes.

This boy is different. This will be different.

“I’m okay,” he reassures Jaehyun, his hand on the back of Jaehyun’s neck, pulling him back down for a kiss. Tears are gathering in his eyes, spilling over, slipping past his closed eyelids. Jaehyun is scared, he doesn’t want to fuck this up. He thinks he should stop, but Taeyong has his long, beautiful legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close.

“Taeyongie,” Jaehyun whispers. “Am I hurting you?”

Taeyong shakes his head, still breathing hard, shuddering now. There’s no pain, no pain, and this is pulling at his insides gently, he feels like he’s floating, and he clings to Jaehyun to keep him there, his fingers mapping the rise and fall of muscle in Jaehyun’s back. His eyes are fixed on Jaehyun’s face, a blurry, tear stained image of porcelain skin and soft blonde hair, of dimples and crinkled smiles, of the stars and the sun.

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to do.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, helplessly pushing into Taeyong’s body, slow, deep. “You’re so beautiful, Taeyongie. I won’t hurt you, I’ll never hurt you, I’ve got you.”

This boy is different.

“Kiss me, please, kiss me,” Taeyong whispers back, desperate.

Jaehyun meets his mouth, and they’re half panting, half kissing, when Taeyong breaks the kiss. There are two short inches between their lips and Taeyong breathes, “Say it.”

It feels like an echo of the first time they had sex together. Taeyong needs something else, something more to get him off. Do it, he had whispered all those months ago.

“I love you,” Jaehyun replies, and Taeyong sobs softly. This time he doesn’t need the hands around his throat, he won’t be needing that anymore. He has this.

“Again,” he pleads.

“I love you,” he whispers against Taeyong’s lips. “I love you, hyung”

He says it over and over, and Taeyong cries quietly.

Jaehyun can feel himself on the verge of release. “Can I touch you?” he asks.

Taeyong nods, gasping when Jaehyun starts stroking him, a few gentle strokes, a few deep thrusts, and their release comes at the same time. It’s magical, like some delicate dream of oceans and running away together, like footsteps in wet sand. Jaehyun’s body gives up, crumples onto Taeyong, and Taeyong holds him close.

“Thank you,” Taeyong whispers. Jaehyun lifts his head to kiss him again, to say no hyung, thank you, but Taeyong stops him. He cups his face and wipes at his cheeks, pushes strands of blonde hair out of his face, and that’s when Jaehyun realizes he’s crying too.

This boy is different.

“I love you, Jaehyun,” Taeyong says, and it sounds perfect. It sounds liberating, beautiful, like everything he could ever want. Taeyong’s beautiful trembling body in his arms, all his scars and all his fears laid bare, all his courage and his kindness sinking into Jaehyun’s skin, Jaehyun’s heart in his hands, pretty mouth pulling softly into a smile, how warm, how lovely. Here are two people, irreversibly fucked up, punished for no deed done wrong, learning to live on their own terms. Here are two people, broken, learning to fit together. What a perfect picture.

This is it, Jaehyun thinks. This is broken glass and bloodied palms, this is heartbreak. This is a kiss pressed softly to bandaged skin, this is forgiveness, this is redemption. This is courage and catharsis. This is what it feels like to love someone.

This is it.'


End file.
